


A Matter of Pride

by WoodlandGoddess1



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bigotry & Prejudice, Biphobia, Bisexuality, Bottom Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Comfort Sex, Coming Out, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Modern AU, Past Character Death, Pegging, Racism, Sex Toys, Top Gwen, mentions of bondage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-05-21 10:55:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14914058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WoodlandGoddess1/pseuds/WoodlandGoddess1
Summary: Arthur gazed down at the photograph of his uncle for another moment and then looked out at his wife once more. He let her blatant bisexual pride flood through him and fill the cavern of his chest. He raised his chin and squared his shoulders as he made a decision that could change his life as he knew it:He was going to the pride festival.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully, I will get the second chapter finished before the end of the fest...but I didn't want to deprive people of established Arwen that I could post. So, here, have this.
> 
> I started this fic out of pure spite and have loved working on it so far.
> 
> It means a lot to me.
> 
> I've never published an Arwen fic before and I hope I haven't fucked up...
> 
> Feel free to let me know what y'all think.

“I’m bisexual.”

The confession cracked out of Arthur Pendragon as the slender hands of the analogue clock on the cream wall in front of him moved past the hour mechanically, each faint tick like a hammer pounding against his eardrums. His throat clamped down around a distressed noise as soon as the words escaped him. He’d never said them out loud before. A confusing mix of fear and relief knotted his stomach as that fact hit him square in the chest. He lowered his gaze at once. He couldn’t look at Gwen as he waited for her judgement in the wake of his confession. He wasn’t afraid of what she’d say, exactly, because she’d been honest about her own attractions from the beginning of their relationship and he knew he could trust her with his own sexuality, but he couldn’t help feeling as though he’d besmirched the trust she’d shown him because he’d taken so long to come out of the closet in return.

Arthur was thirty; almost a decade had passed since he’d started dating her.

A cold sweat broke out across his skin. He wiped his palms against his crisp black trousers. His foot — clad in a black oxford shoe — tapped an incessant beat against the kitchen tiles. A tremor rippled down his spine as he stared down at the animated sheep that pranced across the tablecloth he and his wife had purchased when the pair of them first moved into their house — a privilege that few couples could achieve in the current economic climate. The walls of their lavish home now served as a constant reminder that Arthur came from a background so different from those of most of the friends and acquaintances he’d made in university; his mouth twisted as he remembered how Will Fletcher had sneered with loathing as he’d slapped him in the face with his own privilege. Arthur hadn’t felt privileged at the time. He still didn’t feel that way, honestly, but he was big enough to concede to activists that knew better than him about certain matters.

“I’ve known that for a long time.” Gwen confessed her knowledge of his sexual orientation gently, warmly, reaching out across the kitchen table separating them and offering her hand to him without an ounce of hesitation. Arthur snapped his startled gaze upwards and almost choked on his tongue upon seeing the soft glow of tender adoration that she often directed at him. He reached for her hand at once and squeezed tightly, needing the comfort and affection that she offered so willingly, and knowing that he was so close to falling apart at the seams. He knew his emotional upheaval was written all over his face. Gwen squeezed his hand in return. Her expression softened with understanding. “The choice to come out can be a hard one to make and not all of us make that choice in the end. Both of those outcomes are valid choices. We need to do it when we’re ready; no one has the right to force us out of the closet. Not even the people closest to us.”

“I’ve wanted to be open for so long,” Arthur answered raggedly, his throat burning as his vision blurred without warning. Years of silence pressed down on him all at once. His grip tightened. Gwen tightened hers in return. He could feel her wedding ring pressing into his skin and its unrelenting pressure was a welcome comfort to him. It helped the words that followed slip free even as something wet slipped down his face. “But I didn’t know how. I tried…so _often_ …but the words wouldn’t come. No matter how hard I tried.”

Gwen rose from her chair abruptly, the force of her movement almost sending the chair toppling behind her as she relinquished his hand. She circled the table in an instant and threw her arms around him without an ounce of hesitation. He choked upon a noise of distress as his own hands fisted the back of her red dress desperately; the soft scent of lavender assailed his senses as he buried his face against her shoulder. Several thick braids brushed against his ear. Gwen hugged him tightly, her slighter frame almost vibrating with emotion. But she withdrew eventually, her hands coming to frame his face as Arthur continued to cling to her with an overwhelming need that used to humiliate him in the past. He’d grown comfortable with his need for affection and tenderness during difficult situations over time. Marriage had done him a world of good. Gwen brushed a gentle thumb across his cheek and swept the wetness away; she’d never liked seeing him so upset that his emotions broke through the walls his father had developed and enforced within him. She’d once claimed that seeing him like that was heart-breaking. Gwen brushed a mussed lock of hair back from his forehead and said fervently, “You took as much time as necessary, and I’m so honoured that I was trusted with this. You’ve no idea how proud I am!”

“Actually, I think I have some idea.” Arthur smiled wetly, humorously, his fingers slipping upwards to curl around the braids kissing her bare shoulder now. The purple…and blue…and pink braids had been the most wonderful thing to grace him since he’d first encountered Gwen so long ago. He hadn’t been able to keep his hands away, honestly, and had spent that first evening nuzzling her bisexual braids with his face as she’d laughed and swatted at him before shoving him down on his back and straddling him with one fluid motion. She’d mesmerised him in an instant. His smile widened a fraction as he remembered that night. “Your pride is rather hard to miss.”

“Not what I meant.” Gwen smiled wryly, if fondly, her gaze sparkling. She flicked the end of his nose and Arthur scrunched it automatically, feeling torn between laughing and grimacing at the teasing touch. His wife swept in to kiss him sweetly, but deeply, her mouth a warm spring of affection. Her hand slipped into his hair and her manicured nails teased his sensitive scalp. One skilled slide of her slick tongue against his threatened to reduce him to a puddle of need and desire. Arthur sighed against her mouth as he lowered his hand and cradled her neck carefully, his thumb resting against her pulse. It skipped a beat beneath his touch. Gwen withdrew slowly, and Arthur smiled dazedly; she’d been an amazing kisser from the beginning, ensnaring him from the moment her mouth first captured his. She kissed his forehead and smiled down at him. “Come on. I know a brave bisexual who needs a good rest because he busted through a solid oak door after almost a decade of ramming his shoulder against it.”

Gwen relinquished him and strode away, her colourful braids swinging from the force of her momentum. The sight pulled him from his chair as though his wrists were tied. He followed her out of the gleaming kitchen and into the hallway, past walls covered in framed photographs that spanned the length of their relationship. Not to mention the relationships the pair of them had cultivated with their friends from uni. The red carpet leading up the stairs muffled their footsteps. Arthur watched her hair swing as Gwen led the way, wanting to curl his fingers around those colourful locks and nuzzle her face until the lingering ache in his chest ebbed. His abdomen tightened with the knowledge that he’d soon get the chance: it pleased and amused her whenever he did so.

The master bedroom was his favourite room in the whole house.

Arthur loved the deep red wall that rose above the enormous king, which burned at the height of summer. He loved the white walls that glowed and helped the room appear more spacious. He loved the red drapes that framed the bed and dappled their skin with a warm pink whenever the sun shone through the unintended gap in the curtains. He loved the mirror in front of the vanity, which allowed him to admire the soft features of his wife as she went through her morning routine while Arthur lazed in bed for another while. Mostly, Arthur loved the strong woman brightening the space as he closed the door behind him gently, his mouth curling around a tired smile as he watched Gwen grip the fabric of her dress at her waist and whip it over her head in one smooth motion. She tossed it aside without a care in the world. He loved watching her muscles ripple beneath the tattoo of a winged sword that followed the curve of her spine and almost kissed the parting of her buttocks.

Arthur crouched and unlaced his shoes slowly, giving himself time to stabilise the desire pulsing through his veins. He often had to do so when Gwen revealed that stunning tattoo to him. Far too easily, he could remember seeing part of the tattoo for the first time when she’d worn a spaghetti string top on a warm day; the fabric had been the colour of the sun and had highlighted the warm glow in her skin as she’d tipped her head back and luxuriated in the sunshine spilling down upon her. She’d said something that made the slender man beside her burst out laughing and Arthur had been struck dumb so suddenly, and so deeply, that he’d tripped over a curb while staring at the pair of them and knocked himself out against a bench.

Smiling at the fond memory, Arthur straightened and stepped out of his shoes. He wrangled his socks off with his toes before unzipping his trousers. He shoved his trousers and boxers down in the same sweep and soon stepped out of them. His shirt came next. A shiver rippled through his frame and he hastened across the room to steal another kiss from his wife before crawling into bed and wrapping himself up like a burrito. Gwen snorted in amusement and shook her head before snaring the blanket with both hands and tugging, offering a startled burst of laughter when Arthur protested the sudden lack of blanket mildly, but reached for her as soon as she wriggled under the blanket to join him. Her soft skin found his with warm familiarity, her legs tangling with his. Arthur wrapped an arm around her and hugged her still closer as she tucked her head beneath his chin. He nuzzled her bisexual hair fondly, relishing the tickling sensation against his skin.

Arthur and his wife relaxed together slowly, wrapped around each other. Several moments of silence passed before Gwen asked quietly, “What inspired our conversation tonight?”

“I overheard a few colleagues talking in the bathroom at work.” His arm tightened around Gwen a fraction. His throat burned as he remembered the conversation he’d overheard and how quick straight men were to dismiss people like him. Arthur tucked his head down further and hid his face in her bisexual hair completely, letting himself take comfort from her warm presence and the blatant pride that she wore like armour against unsolicited and undeserved hate for her attractions. His voice cracked with emotion despite the comfort Gwen provided him. “One of them said people like us didn’t exist. He said that we were just at the first stop on the train to being gay, Guinevere. I had a panic attack in the bathroom because I was invisible. No one knew I existed. I wanted to exist!”

“That fucking wanker.” Gwen scowled against his shoulder. Her fingertips dug into his back and Arthur couldn’t help smiling, though his emotions were still burning strong. Gwen could be a perfect storm under the right circumstances and he loved witnessing such phenomena when it wasn’t directed at him. Undoubtedly, her rolling waves would quench the emotions burning within him soon enough. “Who was it? Have I met him? I’ll break his nose!”

“You’ve met him more than once.” Arthur sighed softly, pressing a soft kiss against one of the purple braids facing him. “It was Cedric — the firm celebrated his promotion to senior partner recently, you’ll remember.”

“I never liked that slimy, sanctimonious prick.” Gwen huffed irritably, exuding no small amount of bitterness over their meeting with the senior partners to protest the promotion of an undeserving candidate. “You deserved that position more than he did. You did all the hard work and he took the fucking credit!”

Arthur hadn’t wanted to make a fuss over the matter. He’d wanted nothing more than to bow his head and keep working, wanted to drown himself in bank reconciliations and vat returns to distract himself from the secret festering inside him for so long. He hadn’t cared about Cedric Black and his promotion to senior partner at the firm. It wasn’t as though he’d even needed the promotion: he and his wife could live comfortably, without working, for the rest of their lives. Neither of them would ever be distressed because of their finances. That was the upside — or downside — of being the sole heir to an heiress that perished long before her time.

Unsurprisingly, Gwen had been the first to take the challenge in hand. She’d walked into Sigan and Co. and had demanded a meeting immediately, a sharp glint in her gaze and confidence rolling from her curvaceous figure. She’d looked so smart in her lilac business suit and her curls drawn back into an intricate chignon that looked pretty, but practical. Her cream stilettos — which had matched her blouse — had looked so intimidating; Arthur had wanted to kneel at her feet as soon as he’d seen her dominate the conference room with an ease that he’d admired. She’d had her succinct arguments at the ready, but Arthur had known the meeting wouldn’t be successful: the senior partners hadn’t been cowed for long and had soon rebuffed her arguments despite the evidence she’d provided.

Gwen had worked in Human Resources. She’d overseen the hiring and training of countless members of their staff. That included Cedric Black. In another company, her word might have been considered law when it came to the people she’d overseen over the course of her career. Unfortunately, Cornelius Sigan — the most senior partner at the firm — had vouched for the dedication and enthusiasm that had been cited as the reason for promoting Cedric to his new position.

Not even Gwen had a chance against a man ranked so high.

She’d tendered her resignation the next day, her chin high and her shoulders squared with confidence and determination. Gwen had known she wouldn’t have an issue with sourcing a position elsewhere. She’d been snatched up before the waiting period came to an end and now worked for a gaming company, Oblivion Media Inc., the internal culture of which was much more relaxed. Her previous position would never have allowed her to wear such blatant colours in her hair. More importantly, she was happier when she started working for that gaming company, more so than she’d been when working for Sigan and Co.

Unfortunately, however, her new position meant that the pair of them no longer saw each other in the breakroom at the firm and Arthur couldn’t help missing her presence at work. He missed sharing a large slice of cake while chatting over a steaming cup of coffee in the corner of the breakroom. He missed her foot teasing beneath the hem of his trousers beneath the table separating them and the knowing sparkle in her gaze as he shifted discreetly, the heel of his hand pressing against his erection and willing his arousal to subside. The workplace wasn’t the place for such a thing, but he missed her teasing all the same.

As though she could sense his longing, Gwen pressed a kiss against his shoulder. She squeezed him even closer. Finally, she added quietly, “Being biphobic just gives me another reason to hate him.”

Arthur chuckled softly, pressing a soothing kiss against her brow when Gwen tipped her head back and looked at him. He ran his fingertips down the length of her smooth back absently, humming with pleasure as Gwen smiled at him. She bowed her head again a moment later and the pair of them sighed together.

“You knew I was bi this whole time. I find that so hard to believe.” Arthur spoke the words softly, wonderingly, his fingertips pausing near the pommel of her winged tattoo. Her skin felt so warm and soft beneath his touch. Honestly, it still amazed him that he had the privilege to be so intimate with someone so lovely, so beautiful. Sometimes he wondered what she’d ever seen in him when he’d woken up to find those stunning strangers standing over his hospital bed while he gazed up at them blearily, his head pounding and wrapped in bandages after he’d almost brained himself on that bench. It still amazed him that Gwen and Merlin had both accompanied him to the hospital and waited at his bedside until he’d come to. “Was I so obvious?”

“I knew before we even started dating,” Gwen murmured after taking a moment to kiss his shoulder fondly, her mouth curling around a smile. Her arm tightened around him and her fingernails teased between his shoulder blades. Arthur shivered at her touch and nuzzled against her bisexual braids as she continued her explanation. “Remember when Leon hosted that Halloween party, and Percival came dressed like Caesar? You checked him out when he bent over and his skirt rode up. I did too. We have great taste: his legs looked fabulous in that costume.”

Arthur barked a laugh as he remembered the incident in question. He’d been pouring a drink for Gwen because the host had been in the bathroom and he’d been distracted when Percival bent over to retrieve the lamp he’d knocked with his scroll. The rum he’d been pouring had ended up all over the counter because he couldn’t stop staring at the exquisite sight until Gwen exclaimed his name in drunken dismay, smacking his arm abruptly, and snaring his attention at once. He’d blushed so hard and had ended up knocking the glass over in his scramble to clean up the mess he’d made because he’d seen a nice pair of legs. He’d just made matters even worse. Gwen hadn’t been able to stop laughing even as she’d cursed his clumsiness and the wasted alcohol. He’d had to support her as she’d lost her balance from laughing so hard and he’d almost choked on his tongue when she’d nuzzled against his shoulder fondly, her loud laughter fading to a soft giggle that made his heart clench within his chest as he’d cradled her close. Then she’d raised her head and her laughter had faded completely, her glittering gaze locked upon him in wonderment as he’d gazed down at her in return.

He’d been so tempted to kiss her then.

Unfortunately, that was when someone had stumbled into the pair of them and vomited all over their shoes. Arthur and Gwen had released twin shrieks of drunken horror and had jumped apart. The pair of them had scrambled up the stairs to the second bathroom and almost hurtled themselves into the bathtub together. Arthur had grabbed the portable hose and he’d turned the water on immediately, remembering his manners enough to douse the sparkling ballet pumps Gwen wore before tackling his own running shoes. He’d grimaced in disgust as the chunks of vomit had washed away, swept towards the drain. But it hadn’t removed the stain from their shoes or the vile odour that clung to their skin. He’d helped Gwen back out of the bathtub and she’d almost twisted her ankle when her foot slipped within her wet shoe.

Fortunately, Arthur had still been holding her and she hadn’t had a chance to fall to the tiled floor. He hadn’t let her go until she’d assured herself that she could stand on her own. She’d taken her ballet pumps off a moment later and had sighed wearily, muttering that she’d head home.

“Want some company,” Arthur had blurted abruptly, questioningly, blushing in embarrassment the moment the words escaped him. He’d almost grimaced then as he realised that being covered in vomit wasn’t the best circumstances to work up the courage to ask her out. He’d thought she’d laugh at him for asking, but she’d smiled in surprise instead and he’d swallowed thickly, a tentative smile of his own curling his lips. He’d ducked his head as embarrassed delight almost overwhelmed him. He’d wanted to impress her for so long, his skin often tight across his frame whenever he saw her and prickling with nerves. Graced with the vision of her beauty, he’d often been reminded of all the snide and hurtful comments his father and uncle had made when he was a growing boy; comments that made him look down and away, aware that he wasn’t good enough to ask a woman like Gwen out. It had taken months of Merlin needling at him about his unspoken feelings before he’d managed to blurt out that offer to escort her home that fateful night. “Great! Should I hold those or…?”

“I can hold them.” An amused smile had curled her mouth. Her gaze had twinkled as she’d tossed her head in the direction of the door in a manner that made his abdomen tighten with interest. “Go on: get moving.”

The pair of them had headed downstairs together and had chatted amicably, speaking about nothing much in the scheme of things. But it had brought a warm smile to her face and that had been enough for Arthur. He’d opened the front door for her and she’d almost stepped out in bare feet before he’d pulled her back sharply, protectively, his concerned stare alerting her to the shards of broken beer bottles littering the path out of the estate. Not to mention the few lads passed out in the grass. Gwen had sighed wearily, moving to put her sopping ballet pumps back on. But he’d stopped her gently, gesturing and murmuring, “Let me.”

“Okay,” she’d answered dubiously, smiling fondly, her head tilting with a glimmer of confused amusement. His heart had thumped in his chest as he’d stepped outside and lowered himself a fraction before leaning forward and reaching back for her as she’d hoisted herself up on his back. Her arms had wrapped around his neck and her ballet pumps had dangled down near his chest. He’d stumbled for moment before finding his balance and she’d giggled into his ear as her legs tightened around him. He’d cradled the back of her knees with his palms. She’d brushed her lips against the shell of his ear as she’d said cheekily, “Mush!”

He’d barked a laugh.

That had been the start of the relationship the pair of them had now.

“He did look fabulous.” Arthur smiled sheepishly, his cheeks warming. He continued running his fingertips along the curve of her back. “Actually, so did Merlin. Dressing like a Death Dealer suits him. I wanted him to bite me.”

“ _That_ is a _mood_.” Her lips curled as she tipped her head back and pressed a kiss beneath the line of his jaw. Gwen trailed soft kisses along the underside of his jaw. Arthur hummed in appreciation. “You didn’t dress up. I’m still bitter about that.”

“You know why,” Arthur replied easily, spreading his fingers across the small of her back adoringly; he stroked his thumb across her smooth skin. “Dressing like James Bond would be the same as attending an event with Dad. I wanted to avoid that.”

“You didn’t have to dress like James Bond.” Gwen spoke the words fondly, her gaze twinkling with amusement when Arthur looked down at her. Her smile broadened. “You could have come as a grunting caveman. I’d still tap that.”

Arthur pinched her backside without warning, earning a giggle and a goading smile from his wife. Growling playfully, he surged forward and squashed Gwen against the bed. He pinned her hands against the mattress. His thigh pressed between hers. Smirking smugly, he let his lips graze hers as he murmured silkily, “You were saying, my love?”

 

* * *

 

 

Pride was less than a month away; that thought petrified and thrilled him as he read through the informational booklets that Merlin had given him when Arthur came out to him with the support of his loving wife. He brushed his shaking fingertips across the cover of one of the booklets he’d been given and appreciated the design: a sword with a cross-guard encrusted with gemstones in bisexual pride colours embedded in a large stone. The sword had a dual purpose in the design: it stood as a representation of bisexuality, but it also acted as a plus sign in the phrase Bi + Albion. He’d known that Merlin and Gwen were volunteering, but he’d never known that Merlin had founded the organisation himself.

His admiration for that intelligent man doubled.

That booklet detailed the aims of Bi + Albion and the services it provided.

Some of the other booklets covered a range of topics: a number of hotlines for an emotional emergency; guides on how to reconcile a conservative upbringing and sexuality; a list of safe spaces for bisexuals across the country, which was shorter than he’d expected.

That didn’t sit well with him.

The last booklet was devoted to the pride festival — an entire week of celebration with something for the whole family, or so the booklet claimed on the front. He hadn’t dared to look through it. The pride festival was huge and the mere idea of the parade itself was intimidating: it would mean being out in the open and providing a chance for someone to see him and report back to his father. He hadn’t come out to his father. He’d never been able to broach the subject with him in the past and he didn’t dare to now. He knew it wouldn’t go well. For too long, Arthur stood as witness to obscene and derisive comments about the queer community, and he’d done nothing to challenge them. He’d said nothing. Just nodded his head and looked away, a silent spectator to his own disparagement and the disparagement of others.

He’d been such a coward.

His hands clenched.

Arthur bowed his head a fraction and drew in a shaking breath before forcing his hands to relax. He set some of the booklets aside and regretted crumpling them. He looked askance at his wife tinkering with her motorbike in the driveway, wondering what she’d say, if she knew he was still wrestling with the fact that people knew about him now. That more people would come to know about him when the pride festival came along. He watched her toss her braids over her shoulder and rub sweat from her face with the back of her hand — and still ended up with a smear of grease across her cheek. She grimaced in discomfort and then spotted him watching, her grimace morphing into a beaming smile as she waved at him through the window.

She blew him a kiss.

And then realised she’d smeared grease on her lip.

“Damn it!”

Arthur couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her frustrated embarrassment. His heart tightened with affection. He watched her reach for a rag and scrub at her face as she grumbled irritably, her brow furrowing, reminding him that he was married to one of the most adorable women he’d ever met and also one of the fiercest. She flicked her braids back over her shoulder again and went back to work resolutely, traces of grease still staining her face.

She’d scrub the rest of the mess off later.

Arthur looked down at the last booklet in his hand and stared down at the rainbow flag on the front. It wasn’t his personal pride flag, of course. But it was the next best thing. He ran his fingertips across the cover of the booklet and imagined he could feel the strength of the LGBTQ community, not to mention the warm welcome he’d receive during the pride festival and at the parade through Camelot in particular. He thought about his wife and her bravery, how she’d drape herself in bisexual colours twice annually, and walk through the city, visible and proud despite the disparaging comments and disapproving looks she’d garner from straight people. He thought about her loud protests and her frustrated tears when the _Star Trek_ films decided to make _Hikaru Sulu_ a homosexual in the alternative timeline — not because she had an issue with a film character being gay, but because of the ease with which _Star Trek_ could have given the world an openly, and proudly, bisexual character and avoided doing so.

Gwen was outspoken.

She wasn’t the delicate flower that people mistook her to be at first glance. She was a powerful river and she’d flood the banks when provoked. Arthur loved that about her. He loved that she was gentle and fierce. He loved that she was nurturing and dangerous. He’d admired her for a long time and to be even a fraction as brave as Gwen was an achievement in itself.

Still thinking about her bravery, Arthur steeled himself and opened the booklet abruptly, forcing himself to look at the first page. Something within him deflated at the sight of a simple index listing the subjects in the booklet and their relevant page numbers. It wasn’t the vibrant and frightening show of pride that he’d been expecting, but perhaps that was normal for Camelot. He wasn’t certain. He’d never looked through an information booklet devoted to the pride festival before.

He’d never attended a pride festival before either.

Arthur had declined to attend them in the past whenever Gwen and the others offered to bring him along and let him support them in public as an ally, but he’d been terrified that the truth of his attraction to more than one gender would be revealed to the public. He’d been terrified that his wife and friends would be hurt that he hadn’t been able to trust them for so long, but he knew that was a baseless fear now. It was a fear his father had instilled within him — like countless other fears that he’d struggled to overcome since he’d forged his first genuine friendships at university, not to mention his relationship with the most forgiving and understanding woman he’d ever met.

He flicked the next page over and read through the booklet slowly, taking his time to absorb the information provided. He read about the pride committee and the local queer history, his mouth curling around a warm smile as a black and white photograph depicted two teenagers who’d grown up to give him the greatest friend he could ask for marching in the streets and shouting, holding placards and keeping their heads high despite the rotten fruit and eggs being thrown at them from furious queerphobes. Seeing Balinor and Hunith so proud and determined in the face of such hatred strengthened something within him.

One of his uncles marched beside them in the photograph.

Arthur brushed his fingertips over white hair he knew was blond and over an uneven jaw as he wondered whether Tristan de Bois knew what kind of man his sister had married before he’d been beaten to a pulp and left for dead in an alleyway, his unconscious frame buried beneath heaps of rubbish. He’d been killed half a decade after that momentous photograph had been taken. He’d been left to feed the rats and feral cats that roamed the streets of Camelot and one of the local coroners had determined that the animals had started devouring him antemortem.

His uncle had been twenty, little more than a growing boy, with so much life ahead of him. Someone had torn that future from him because he’d identified as queer. That fact had never been in question. Six damning letters had been painted across his bruised chest in his own blood.

Just the thought of what had been done to Tristan de Bois had his stomach twisting with no small amount of fear and anxiety; the same feeling he’d experienced when he’d learned what happened to his uncle when he was a boy, curious and eager to learn about the deceased members of his family, though his father had been taciturn when it came to speaking about the man. His cruel lips had often twisted with displeasure as his tongue wrapped around the name of Tristan de Bois. He’d explained what happened in no uncertain times: Tristan and others like him had been purged from Camelot for committing crimes against nature and deeming himself above the law.

Arthur could remember looking down at the shining oxfords his father wore and curling his hands at his sides. He could remember wanting to cry, thinking about Tor Sheppard and how handsome he’d looked that morning while saddling his pony, reaching out to ruffle his hair as soon as he’d finished. He could remember the vibrant flush that stained his cheeks as he’d fumbled to put his helmet on and how he’d stammered his gratitude while avoiding looking at the older boy, whose smile had made his stomach perform cartwheels. He’d been seven at the time and Tor was closer to thirteen and working as an apprentice in the stables.

That was the moment he’d known there was something wrong with him.

Arthur wondered if Tristan de Bois had known what kind of upbringing his nephew was in for. He wondered if his mother had known and condoned his behaviour or if she’d believed she could encourage Lord Uther Pendragon to be a better man than he was at their first meeting.

But he supposed there was no point in wondering: he’d never know for certain because his mother was gone and she could never come back to him. The hospital staff had ensured that when his mother had died of an infection after a botched caesarean. One of their surgical clamps had been left inside her and the infection hadn’t been found until it was too late for his mother to pull through. She’d died in the midst of a virulent fever and Arthur had been left in the care of a man that didn’t know what an emotion was or didn’t care how his behaviour had affected his son from the moment he’d been placed in the cradle.

Arthur gazed down at the photograph of his uncle for another moment and then looked out at his wife once more. He let her blatant bisexual pride flood through him and fill the cavern of his chest. He raised his chin and squared his shoulders as he made a decision that could change his life as he knew it:

He was going to the pride festival.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this fic ended up being more than two chapters long, but that's ok!

Arthur wiped his palms against his trousers and glanced around surreptitiously, hoping no one spotted him as he ducked into the adult store two weeks before pride. His heart thumped in his chest as he avoided looking at the woman manning the cash register to the left of the entrance. His cheeks grew warm as she watched him head for the large wall dedicated to anal play, where an intimidating collection of items stared him down. Arthur tugged the collar of his red trench-coat up higher and tried to hide as much as possible from the shop assistant watching him. But he couldn’t conceal the heat that still plagued him as he came to a stop in front of an overwhelming selection of dildos and plugs that came in various sizes and colours and designs. Some even had ridges and knots like magical creatures and that thought horrified and thrilled him in the same sweep. He couldn’t help wondering how each of them would feel inside him and how the different designs would affect his experience.

But he knew one of those would be too adventurous for him right now.

Arthur hadn’t even experienced the press of a regular cock inside him — never mind a ridged dildo as thick as his arm. His stomach tightened as he looked through the other items on display, a cold sweat gathering at the small of his back. The enormous amount of choice made it hard to settle upon a single item and his lack of experience in this area wasn’t helping matters in the least. His hand twitched at his side. His throat clamped down around the ragged noise that rose from within his chest and refused to let it escape. His breath quickened and then he scrambled for the smartphone in his pocket before scrolling through his contact list and dialling the one man he trusted enough to request help from.

“Hey,” Merlin greeted Arthur cheerfully, having answered the call within a few moments. The sound of traffic surrounded his voice. Arthur couldn’t prevent the strangled noise that escaped him upon hearing his voice. He looked around the adult store once more and then looked down at his feet in growing mortification as he heard the grin stretching from ear to ear fade away, Merlin asking quietly, “You okay?”

“I need help.”

“What happened?” Arthur grimaced as Merlin grew concerned immediately, his tone sharpening in response to the ragged distress in his voice. He could almost feel the grip on his phone tightening. He could almost see the narrowing of those fathomless storms. “Has something happened to Gwen?”

“No!” The denial escaped Arthur in a rush. The word rang out in the silence of the adult store and Arthur glanced around sheepishly, his mortification doubling as the shop assistant arched a pierced brow at him. He mouthed an immediate apology, which the woman acknowledged quietly, and focused on the conversation with Merlin a moment later. He softened his voice at once. “Gwen is fine. I’m fine. I just…I don’t know what to do!”

“I can’t help unless I know what the matter is. Tell me.”

“I _can’t_. You need to come here before I chicken out and leave!”

“Chicken out?” Merlin mumbled a request for strength and Arthur almost didn’t catch it. He huffed in irritation at the sound and then grimaced as Merlin continued quietly, “Please tell me this conversation isn’t about what I think it is.”

“It…might be?”

Arthur scrunched his nose and tilted his head as he continued to search the collection in front of him. He was still at a loss as to what kind of dildo he should pick or what kind of plug he should start with. He bit his lip as he spotted a wand that looked a lot like the one Gwen had purchased online recently; the wand she’d used to torture his cock after she’d tied him to the bed the other night. He’d come so fucking hard. He hadn’t come like that since the first time she’d ever wrapped her hand around his cock.

Heat pooled in his stomach as he remembered the incident in question.

Arthur and Gwen had been on their tenth date that day, the pair of them sitting on a bench in Sauvage Regional Park at the heart of Camelot. The weather had been lovely, and Gwen was wearing a white skirt with lilac flowers and a white top that emphasised her beautiful shoulders. Not to mention her graceful neck and the gentle swell of breasts that had his abdomen clenching with want whenever he happened to glance in her direction. A soft breeze had swept past them as Arthur fiddled with the threads at the end of the sleeve of his red jumper nervously, an inexplicable tension in his frame as a few boisterous children darted past them and headed for the swing-set in the distance while their parents brought up the rear of the group. He’d glanced at Gwen and offered a lopsided smile — one that she’d returned immediately, a glimmer of something secret in her gaze as she’d shifted enough to be comfortable as she twined her fingers around the hair kissing the back of his neck and asked gently, “Why are you so nervous?”

“You’re so…and I’m…”

Arthur had looked away, his heart clenching painfully, biting back the disparaging remark that rose in his throat. One of the numerous remarks he’d heard from his uncle growing up. That he was stupid and inept. That he wasn’t worth the ground he walked on and not even his inheritance was enough to encourage someone to be with him. He didn’t voice those remarks. He knew Gwen didn’t like hearing him disparage himself like that. She’d made that plain from the beginning of their friendship and would often hug the ache in his chest away, her arms winding tight around him and her face nuzzling against his sternum as Arthur would return the embrace tentatively, doing his best to hide the shake in his hands and the flush in his face.

“You’re…?”

“I can’t even speak properly,” Arthur had managed to confess despite the lump of nerves in his throat. He’d looked at Gwen. He’d cleared his throat forcefully, determined to explain as Gwen gazed at him in quiet expectation. His explanation had come out in disjointed bursts. “I…I feel things I can’t describe. Things I can’t handle. It makes talking difficult. When I’m with you.”

Her fathomless gaze had glittered at him as soon as he’d said the words and Arthur had lost the strength required to speak completely, struck dumb at the sight of her gazing at him with quiet determination and desire. His throat had clamped down around a ragged noise of anticipation. His lungs had seized within his chest and then Gwen had kissed him softly, her plush lips a tender promise that made him remember what air was. He’d dragged in a shaking breath that hurt his chest and then she’d kissed him again carefully, shifting closer to him as her lips teased against his so sweetly, so softly, gaining confidence as Arthur melted into a fucking puddle beneath her more experienced touch. He’d whimpered against her lips as he’d opened up tentatively, welcoming the gentle presence of her slick tongue.

His hand had trembled as he’d reached up to touch her curls.

Someone had wolf-whistled a moment later and Arthur had torn himself away, his face burning with mortification as Gwen giggled with blatant amusement. Her gaze had sparkled even more as she’d looked aside and watched their audience move on. She’d looked at Arthur a moment later. Her hand had soon found his thigh just beneath the aching bulge of his cock. Her thumb had grazed the head and Arthur had forced himself to bite back the strangled gasp that threatened to escape him at her touch.

“Do you want to go somewhere…quiet?”

“Please.” The plea had escaped him upon a hoarse croak as he’d reached down and captured her hand quickly, not feeling brave enough to let her keep touching him like that in public. It had been hard enough to speak to her on a date. The idea of being intimate with her had almost overwhelmed him completely, but he’d been filled with so much need and earnest desire. He’d never kissed someone before. He’d never touched someone before and he’d wanted to touch Gwen so badly; that the chance had seemed to be on the table had threatened to render him speechless. But he’d forced himself to continue speaking. “Take me home. With you. Please.”

“Good thing I live nearby,” Gwen had answered with a teasing wink. She’d risen quickly, her movements sleek and graceful. She’d tugged him to his feet and led him away, a sense of nervous excitement rippling between them as the pair of them crossed Sauvage Regional Park at a quick pace. She’d glanced at him several times as her thumb stroked across his vulnerable skin and made his blood thunder through his veins like the hooves of a galloping racehorse. She’d known what she was doing, how her touch affected him. Arthur was quiet as she’d unlocked the door to the apartment block and led him inside before quickening her pace and darting up several flights of stairs. He’d struggled to keep breathing as her flat loomed closer and closer — and the knowledge that he’d get to kiss and touch her with it. His heart had tried to punch a hole through his chest as she’d shoved him up against the closed door of her flat and kissed him roughly, deeply, her tongue slick and forceful as she’d fisted his cashmere jumper with both hands.

Part of him had thought to protest the treatment of his expensive jumper.

The rest of him hadn’t given a fuck as his hands fluttered uselessly, eager to touch and uncertain whether he’d be allowed. He’d melted into a puddle between her and the door pressing against his back as his hands clenched and unclenched with rising need. She’d giggled as his knees threatened to buckle beneath him and one hand had darted out to find purchase against the doorframe as Gwen had continued her exquisite assault upon his senses. She’d driven him almost to the point of senselessness. He’d moaned in despair and longing as she broke the kiss to slip one arm over his shoulder and around his neck. Gwen had pressed even closer to whisper huskily, but firmly, “Your arms. Put them around me and lift me up.”

A broken noise of want had escaped him.

Arthur hadn’t questioned the command as she’d continued to kiss him and he’d slipped his arms around her. His hands had brushed across her hips as her free hand had darted downwards to drop her panties with practiced ease and snare the fabric of her enchanting skirt. She’d hiked the material up before his hands had found the ample swell of her pert backside. Her smooth skin had felt so soft and supple where it encased the strong muscles of her backside.

Arthur hadn’t been able to stop himself from squeezing before heaving her into his arms with a low grunt of effort that escaped in the same instant as her sigh of pleasure. Those legs he’d often admired had wrapped around him immediately, her powerful thighs squeezing, the warmth of her crotch throbbing against him to the same beat of his blood. Her remaining arm had slipped around his neck at once. Her fingers had tangled in his hair sweetly, but possessively, and Arthur had moaned against her lips as she’d continued to ravage his mouth with sinful determination. One trembling hand had relinquished her backside and roamed along the curve of her smooth back before slipping beneath the fabric of her top as Arthur broke the kiss abruptly, asking hoarsely, “Bed?”

“No.” Gwen had shaken her head. She’d pressed her brow against his and her fingers had tightened in his hair a fraction. She’d panted breathlessly, whispering, “Can’t wait that long. Take me to the couch.”

“Okay,” Arthur had answered raggedly, his breath hitching within his chest. His heart had tried to a punch a hole through his ribs again. He’d almost crushed her against him as he’d tried to swallow the deafening roar in his veins. It had been inconceivable to him that she was in his arms and so willing, so eager to touch and be touched. It had been inconceivable that the long months he’d spent aching to see her smile at him and hear her laugh at something he’d said had led him to that moment: the weight of that magnificent woman in his arms and the softness of her skin against his. Not to mention the gentle and fragrant scent of lavender clinging to her raven curls as he’d almost stumbled in his haste to reach the couch nearby, the cushions bathed in a pool of warm light spilling in through the window. Arthur had laughed awkwardly, correcting his balance as his face heated embarrassingly, an effect that had intensified as soon as Gwen began trailing her plush lips across the curve of his jaw until she’d reached his vulnerable ear. She’d nibbled the lobe with calculated precision and Arthur had gasped sharply, his knees buckling in one startling instant. He’d hit the cushions hard and almost broke the couch in the unexpected process. Gwen had chuckled as she’d bounced on his lap infinitesimally, the weight of her backside bearing down upon his trapped and aching cock earning a strangled moan of pleasure. He’d gripped Gwen desperately, his hands rough and trembling, grasping at her upper arms as their position threatened to undo him altogether. “Do that again and I won’t be able to bear it. I’ve never… I’m not _experienced_.”

Gwen had giggled at him less than a moment later.

A gaze darkened with desire had glittered at him like the most beautiful stars he’d ever seen. She’d seemed delighted to hear that he was inexperienced. That he was a virgin in all senses of the word. That he’d never done something like that with a woman. He hadn’t even touched himself much when he was a growing boy, too afraid of being caught in the act and having his hide tanned for being too wanton for his own good. He hadn’t been able to look at her as the weight of his admission had brought flames of humiliation to his face. Gwen had chuckled again and she’d encouraged him to tilt his head back with just a touch of her fingertips beneath his chin. She’d kissed him before the passion burning between them could ebb in the slightest. She’d kissed him until his lips were bruised and aching before trailing her burning affection over his chin and down to the vulnerable apple in his throat that bobbed as soon as she’d pressed her lips there.

Her fingertips had started trailing down over his cashmere jumper.

Her other hand had tightened in his hair.

His heart had stopped beating as those fingers found the zipper of his jeans. The sound of the zipper moving and the sensation of the pressure against his cock easing had jumped his heart into overdrive suddenly, sending his pulse galloping in an instant. He’d known what was coming, but he hadn’t been prepared for the gentle brush of soft fingers against his throbbing cock. Nor for the firm grip of her hand as she’d wrapped her fingers around him.

A devastated noise had escaped him as she’d stroked him.

It was over before he’d even had a chance to experience the sensation fully, his back arching and his muscles tightening, his head pressing against the back of the couch. He’d choked on a cry, his lips parting, as his cock pulsed in her grip. One of his hands had scrabbled at the cushions beneath him as a splash of come hit his cashmere jumper and the rest had spilled over her closed fist.

“Easy, darling, easy,” Gwen had breathed as she’d stroked him through the powerful surge of ecstasy, milking his cock until he couldn’t give another drop more. The hand in his hair had eased its grip immediately, gentle fingertips caressing his scalp as Arthur shuddered and twitched until he went limp from the effort of coming. She’d continued to soothe him even as he’d stuttered out several humiliated apologies for coming far too quickly, for coming before he could do his best to make her feel as good as she’d made him feel. His vision had started blurring, but he hadn’t cried in front of her. He hadn’t been able to bear the idea at the time. He’d grasped at her hips with shaking hands instead and cradled her close as she trailed soft kisses across the lines and curves of his face. His clothes had felt tight and uncomfortable as the sweat of exertion soaked into the material clinging to his damp skin.

“Guinevere —”

“Seriously, Arthur. You don’t have to apologise for a single thing,” Gwen had murmured softly, nuzzling his face with hers. Her lips had found his after a moment or so and then lingered there. Her hand had slipped down from his hair to cradle his jaw tenderly, but possessively, hunger glinting in her gaze. His own grip upon her hips had tightened in response to that hunger. Gwen had paused as his hands threatened to bruise her and had sighed in pleasure before continuing gently, murmuring, “I wanted this. Knowing I helped someone I care about feel good makes me feel good. You deserve to come as often as possible!”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.” Gwen had smiled against his lips and had then teased his lips apart with a soft flick of her skilled tongue. He’d choked upon a whimper as he’d opened up to her eagerly, but tiredly, his frame so warm and sated even as her crotch continued to throb with need against him. His hand had slid down to the soft strength of her thigh and had trembled minutely, his hesitance to slip his hand beneath the hem of her skirt on immediate display, in spite of what the pair of them had shared together a few moments earlier. Her hand had found his and had squeezed gently, reassuringly, and Gwen had stopped kissing him long enough to whisper so softly, and so soothingly, invitingly, “You _can_ touch me. If you want.”

“I do want to.” He’d croaked the words out as he’d gazed at Gwen through a daze of pleasure. He’d swallowed thickly, forcing down the lump that had grown in his throat between one moment and the next. He’d stroked her inner thigh with his thumb. He’d moistened his bottom lip and his mouth had curled around a small smile. “I do. But I don’t know how to make a woman feel good. I’ve read that pleasing a woman is nothing like…like stroking a cock — that pleasing a woman is more like solving a Rubik’s cube or something!”

Gwen had snorted in immense amusement.

“Hey, don’t laugh at me. I’ve no idea what I’m doing here!”

“Today,” Gwen had answered slowly, smirking noticeably, a glimmer of smug wickedness creeping into her voice as she’d raised the hand she’d stroked him with to her mouth and lapped at his come nonchalantly, “is your lucky day, then. You’ll soon be an expert on the subject.”

It hadn’t been a lie.

Arthur might have continued to reminisce about the first time he’d had sex with Gwen were it not for the familiar man speaking, summoning his attention in an instant. He focused upon the present moment at once.  

“Honestly, I’ve had a long day; I’m tired as fuck and discussing anal sex with the man who married the woman I’ve come to view as a sister isn’t how I wanted to spend the evening.” Arthur could almost hear the man rubbing the furrow of his forehead. He could almost hear the exhaustion seeping into his bones despite the cheer with which he’d greeted him earlier. He almost apologised for being so desperate and needy, but he bit the words back at the last moment because he and Gwen had been over this several times over the course of their marriage. He didn’t have to apologise for having emotions. He didn’t have to apologise for needing some help. Arthur looked down at his feet as Merlin continued wearily, “I’m not here to help men pick out dildos and plugs for their wives. You should be having this conversation with Gwen!”

“Merlin!” Arthur curled his fingers around the cuff of his sleeve and glanced around sheepishly, mouthing more apologies to the shop assistant. Fervently, he hoped people hadn’t heard what Merlin had said to him a moment ago. Things like that had happened a few times in the past. It never stopped being embarrassing. Arthur lowered his own voice a fraction and continued quietly, glancing around surreptitiously, afraid of discovering someone in the middle of eavesdropping on the conversation he was having, “I can’t. I want to surprise her after pride. I found out she has an interest in pegging accidentally, and I’ve never done something like this before. I’m terrified that I’ll make the wrong choice! I’m fucking desperate here. I wouldn’t call otherwise. You know I’d rather not talk about these things!”

“Okay,” Merlin sighed after a long pause. “Which store?”

“Get Stuffed.” Arthur grimaced as the words left his mouth. His shoulders hunched against the surge of discomfort that washed through him. His stomach twisted as another customer browsing the adult store glanced at him with no small amount of amusement inscribed upon his face. “That name makes me feel dirty; I hate it.”

Merlin snorted in amusement.

“Shut up.”

“Okay,” Merlin answered gently, a clear note of fond amusement in his voice. Arthur could almost hear him shaking his head with that same fond amusement. Merlin said nothing for a moment as an articulated truck whizzed past loudly, no doubt buffeting the man. It almost deafened Arthur in the process and he had to lower his smartphone for a moment or so as his head rang. He raised it when he heard Merlin sigh in irritation and then say, “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Don’t move a muscle.”

Merlin arrived in ten minutes exactly, his long black coat whipping around his strong and slender legs as a burst of fragrant wind followed him into the adult store. His cheeks were flushed with exertion and it brought the enthusiastic activist he’d once been to mind in an instant. His hair was longer and curlier now and the obvious control of his dark beard lent him an air of maturity, which he’d lacked while attending uni. That absence had made it difficult to get various organisations to take him seriously, though it hadn’t prevented Merlin from doing his utmost to accomplish his goals all the same. His drive and determination to do good had been an inspiration at the time and it still was now.

But Merlin was a wiser and more experienced man now.

The man that came to a stop in front of Arthur looked and acted like a man that knew what he was doing, that took time to weigh his choices and calculate the likelihood of their outcomes. Merlin knew when to push and when to step back. He knew when to shout and when to whisper as he applied the subtlest pressure to a metaphorical shoulder. He knew how to choose his battles and he knew how to rise from a battle he’d lost to fight another day, no matter how futile doing so seemed in that moment. In the decade that had almost passed since university, Arthur had watched Merlin come to the realisation that it wasn’t one single battle that mattered in the long run — it was the war itself. Merlin had gained wisdom and experience and it had improved him to no end.

Arthur wished he’d been as fortunate himself.

But he supposed that was the reason he’d called Merlin in the first place.

Arthur wanted to gain experience in some way, even if it meant humiliating himself and his best friend in the process. Ever since he and Gwen had started dating, he’d begun to accept that a burst of humiliation wasn’t the worst thing a man could experience in life. There were terrible things a man could be subjected to and asking a friend to help him make a safe selection in an adult store wasn’t one of them.

But dealing with his father was.

Arthur hadn’t seen his father in almost a decade.

Not since university, when he’d invited Gwen to dine with him and his father at the manor during the first winter break the pair had experienced as a couple. He’d been so eager to introduce them and had believed his father would at least be welcoming, if not happy, per se. He’d known his father could appreciate a strong and clever woman at the time and Gwen had been that and so much more.

But he’d been wrong to assume their meeting would go well.

Fortunately, his father had been civil to her face.

Lord Uther Pendragon was known for his manners in company, but he’d been quiet that evening and Arthur had assumed that he’d been unsettled to discover that his son had a girlfriend and hadn’t informed him earlier. His father was the sort of man that demanded to be informed of deviations from the norm immediately, no matter how inconvenient it was for those in his acquaintance. His father hadn’t spoken that evening unless he’d been addressed directly, but he’d offered a faint smile now and then as Gwen had done her best to maintain a conversation that just wasn’t happening, no matter how much effort she’d funnelled into it. She’d looked at Arthur for help more than once and he hadn’t known what to do to help break the ice with the man seated at the head of the table. He’d been more than accustomed to his father dominating a room filled with people and securing a riveting conversation within moments.

Aside from the noticeable lack of talking, Arthur had thought the meal was going well enough. Certainly, Gwen had accomplished more than Arthur ever had: a smile had never been granted to him with such ease in the past.

“You’re quiet this evening, father. Are you well?”

“Quite.” Carefully, his father had slipped a grape from the pavlova he’d had for dessert into his mouth and hadn’t looked in his direction at all. Unfortunately, having his father ignore him hadn’t been an uncommon experience when Arthur had been a boy, and he’d thought nothing of it at the time. He’d noted that his voice had sharpened as his father continued speaking, however. “I’ve had a long day, nothing more. I don’t appreciate being questioned in front of guests. We’ll discuss it later.”

“Okay,” Arthur had answered quietly, if awkwardly, tightening his grip around his spoon as Gwen had glanced at him in confused curiosity, her gaze shrewd. Her head had tilted as she’d studied him from the other side of the table. Her foot had found his ankle beneath the table. Arthur had looked down at his own dessert as she’d soothed him with a caress and he’d returned to his rice pudding, a dish he’d favoured since he was a child. He’d glanced across the table as Gwen had popped the last piece of her white chocolate cheesecake into her mouth. “How was it?”

“Honestly, it was delicious.” Gwen had smiled at him across the table as she’d dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. She’d seemed so soft and sweet in her simple white dress and her shoulders had looked ravishing. Part of him had wanted to sweep her off her feet and take her upstairs to his bed in order to ruin her for other men whenever she’d glanced at him over the course of the meal. Another part of him had just wanted to curl up in her arms and watch television in her flat until the pair of them fell asleep on the couch together. He hadn’t been certain which he’d wanted more at the time. “It was the best cheesecake I’ve had. I don’t make claims like that lightly, you know.”

“I know.” Arthur had smiled at her in return. He’d looked at his father then. “Her elder brother is a chef. You should visit his restaurant at some point: the menu he designed is exquisite.”

“Perhaps.” His father had finished the last morsel of his pavlova then and he’d looked at Gwen carefully, a faint smile curling his mouth. He’d set his fork down less than a moment later. “I intend to retire for the evening; perhaps we’ll speak again. I’m sure Arthur can handle the remaining pleasantries. Excuse me.”

Arthur had watched his father stride from the room after directing a cold and expectant glare at him from the doorway, the opened door shielding his expression from their guest. His stomach had twisted with discomfort as he’d realised that something had gone wrong — something had displeased his father. He’d looked down at the remainder of his rice pudding and hadn’t been able to finish it as his blood raced in his ears. He’d pushed the bowl away, setting his spoon down.

Gwen had plucked her small clutch from the seat beside her as she’d risen from her chair and she’d circled the table to meet him as he’d risen from his. She’d been warm and soft in his arms and the scent of her hair had calmed him in moments as her hand had rubbed a soothing line between his shoulder blades.

“I understand now.” Gwen had reached up and cradled his jaw as he’d withdrawn enough to look down at her in confusion. She’d gazed up at him with no small amount of tenderness and understanding. She’d stroked a thumb across his cheek. “Your father is…a difficult man to deal with. Your insecurities started here. I wasn’t sure how to tackle them before and now I understand. We’ll tackle them together.”

“Father is…a complicated man.” Arthur had looked away, his face colouring with humiliation as he’d realised that Gwen had seen more than he’d thought as she’d studied him from the other side of the table. She’d seen what he’d tried to keep beneath the surface in her company; the overwhelming feeling that he’d never be good enough for his father to acknowledge and that he’d never be good enough for whoever claimed his heart. “I’m not sure he means to be so dismissive.”

“Your father does it deliberately,” Gwen had replied without hesitation. It had summoned his attention at once. Her brow had furrowed with concern as she’d continued to stroke his cheek with her thumb. “His being a complicated man doesn’t excuse him. You deserve better than this.”

“You don’t need to worry; I’ve found so much better already, Guinevere.” Arthur had raised his hand to graze her neck with trembling fingertips. He’d trailed his fingertips higher slowly, watching her breath catch as he’d brushed his thumb across her plush bottom lip. His mouth had curled around a smile as he’d gazed down at her with a tenderness that his father and uncle would have scorned him for. He’d often been told that tenderness and sentiment were signs of weakness. He hadn’t been able to help feeling that those lessons were lies as he’d gazed down at the woman that stoked the flames within his chest. Just looking at her had left him feeling like a stronger man. That was when he’d leaned down to graze a kiss against her lips as his hand trailed back down to tease the soft skin of her neck again. Her fingers had curled around a fistful of his dinner jacket as he’d murmured softly, “You’re the kindest and the strongest woman I’ve ever met and I think I might be in love.”

“I _know_ I’m in love.” Gwen had smiled before she’d drawn him into a kiss that lingered as their arms slipped around each other fully, cradling each other closer. Arthur and Gwen had luxuriated in the warm presence of each other for several moments before the pair of them had parted slowly, reluctantly, Gwen murmuring, “But I think I should go.”

“You could stay,” Arthur had offered quietly, hopefully, eager to feel her arms wrapped around him while he curled up beneath the blankets. He hadn’t wanted to be parted from her for even a moment. He’d grown too used to sleeping beside her to bear the separation for long, no matter how familiar the bed upstairs might have been. He’d waggled his brows instead of thinking about it. “I happen to have a very, _very_ large bed upstairs.”

“Tempting.” Gwen had smirked in amusement at seeing his brows waggling, her free hand caressing his hip beneath his dinner jacket. His cock had stiffened at the thought of what else those skilled hands might do to him. Perhaps he’d have been made to scream. Arthur had let his own hands slip around to cup her backside through her dress and squeeze gently, but encouragingly, drawing his lip between his teeth as a soft noise of pleasure had escaped the exquisite woman in his arms. Gwen had stepped back a moment later and Arthur had swallowed the sigh of disappointment as she’d brushed invisible lint from the front of her dress and smiled at him. “But I don’t want to remain in the manor longer than necessary; I don’t think he’d like it.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’d bet on it. I’ve encountered other men just like him and worse.” Gwen had sighed and looked away, her brow furrowing, something sad and weighted flicking across her features for an instant. She’d looked at him again a moment later. A deep pool of resolve had welled within her glittering gaze. “But I’m used to it. Their opinions of me weigh nothing next to mine. I know what I’m worth. I learned that a long time ago.”

“Guinevere…”

“We’ll talk tomorrow.” Gwen had stepped close to rise on her tiptoes and press a loving kiss against his cheek. She’d used the breadth of his shoulders to keep herself balanced as she did so. “I’m looking forward to that omelette I was promised for lunch.”

Gwen had punched the breath out of him with a wink as she’d slipped her hand around his elbow and waited for him to escort her out of the manor. Her protective gear and backpack had waited for her near the front door and she’d drawn them on quickly, exchanging heels for leather boots that had him wanting to kneel at her feet and beg her to use him as she saw fit. Arthur had swooped in to capture her mouth again before her face disappeared beneath the protective material of her helmet and he’d sighed with longing, wanting to straddle the motorbike behind her and let her take him back to her flat. He’d wanted her to shove him flat on his back and ride him with the same expertise she used to control and manipulate her motorbike.

Unfortunately, fate had planned another outcome.

Arthur had ended up in the study, listening to the familiar roar of that motorbike racing down the long driveway, and looking down at the floor as his father had sipped at a glass of bourbon.

“You’re going to end this farce as soon as possible.”

“What?” Arthur had snapped his head upwards immediately, his heart pounding as his father directed an iron glare at him. He’d watched his father set down his glass of bourbon without a care for the heart doing its best to punch a hole through the chest of his son. He’d curled his hands into fists. “Don’t be stupid! Guinevere is the best woman I’ve ever met!”

“Be that as it may,” his father had answered coldly, heedless of the anguish that emanated from Arthur and flooded through the study, “you will do as I command. You’ll break up with her in the morning —”

“I’ll do no such thing!”

“ _Don’t_ interrupt me.” His father had risen from his chair sharply, his strong shoulders back and his chin raised as he’d tried to tower over him as he’d often done when Arthur was a child. “You’ll follow the command I’ve given and I will hear no more of this!”

“I _love_ her.”

“Don’t be absurd.” His father had blanched as though he’d just found a caterpillar in his salad when Arthur had declared his love for Gwen without hesitation or uncertainty, the order to part with her the surest method of galvanising his affections. Not to mention his resolve to spend the rest of his life with Gwen. “Just the thought of such a relationship makes me feel ill.”

“You’re a racist.” Arthur had known the words were true as soon as he’d spoken them and his stomach had twisted with no small amount of unease. A cold sweat had broken out across his skin as a lifetime of overheard conversations between his father and his uncle rippled across the surface of his mind. He’d overheard snippets of conversations about people of colour taking advantage of the generous social welfare provided in Albion and streets that had turned dangerous and ugly, overrun with people of colour with no education and even less manners — according to his father at least. Conversations about loud and uncooperative children of colour attending various schools in Albion — details of which had been passed through the grapevine until it reached their household. These were things he hadn’t thought much of when he was a boy, but he’d grown older and wiser since then. Each remembered snippet of conversation had reaffirmed the revelation that night. His voice had grown stronger in pitch as he’d repeated the accusation. “You’re a racist!”

“I’m not a _racist_.” His father had spat the word out as though it had offended him to have such an accusation hurled at him. He’d reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose for a moment and had released a long sigh before looking at Arthur once more. His voice had grown softer and more coaxing, but a spine of steel had remained all the same. His father had never been without that strong steel. “Truly, I’m not. I bear no ill will toward her. But I don’t believe she has what it takes to be the partner of a man of such high calibre.”

“Okay,” Arthur had answered slowly, the knot of unease igniting into a blaze of vibrant anger upon hearing the insult directed at the woman he loved — an insult incurred through no fault of her own. His voice had dropped to a tone that sounded both low and dangerous as he’d responded to the remark his father had made. “You’re a racist _and_ a classist fucking wanker. I’ve had enough of this.”

Arthur had stormed out the door to the sound of glass shattering.

He’d ran upstairs moments later and had gathered his legal documents to ensure he remained in control of the assets he’d inherited from his mother. He’d stuffed a duffel bag with clothes before fleeing the manor and throwing himself into his car. His wheels had kicked up gravel as he’d sped down the driveway, gripping the steering wheel tightly, and thinking of nothing more than taking Gwen into his arms. He’d arrived on her doorstep in a state of blatant disarray, his face pale and his hands shaking as he’d gripped his things.

Gwen hadn’t said a word.

She’d just opened her home and her heart to him without an ounce of hesitation.

“Okay,” Merlin said upon arriving, calling his attention back to the present. Arthur focused upon him at once. He blinked in surprise as Merlin grabbed his arm and hauled him away, pulling him over to a smaller selection that didn’t look as intimidating as the collection he’d been looking at when Arthur called him. Looking at a collection of lubricants and training kits was rather underwhelming in comparison. “You might as well be a virgin. So, we’re going to cover the basics first.”

Merlin plucked a training kit from the shelves and held it out.

Arthur looked down at the packaging and at the image of three plugs of increasing size dangling from the slender fingers of a petite hand. His brows furrowed. He pursed his lips in disappointment.

“I can’t imagine I’ll be satisfied with that. Those plugs look _tiny_ , Merlin.”

“You’re an anxious beginner. You should start with something tiny,” Merlin insisted as he pressed the box into his hands with determination. Amusement curled his lips as Arthur looked askance at the other customers and ducked his head in embarrassment. “Anyway, it’ll feel bigger once it slides inside. Appearance and sensation aren’t the same thing.”

Arthur glanced at him and sighed before taking the training kit with both hands and watching Merlin peruse the collection of lubricants in front of them. Merlin looked so confident and serious — as though perusing adult stores was something he did on a regular basis. It was enviable. Arthur wasn’t certain he’d ever be that confident when it came to walking into an adult store and looking for what he wanted. One day, perhaps. If Gwen was with him and the pair of them could make an informed choice together. Still thinking, Arthur watched Merlin pluck a bottle of lubricant from the shelves and set it down on top of the training kit.

“This particular lube is extra slick — which is good in the beginning, but not required after growing more accustomed to anal sex.” Arthur flushed as red as a tomato as Merlin spoke the words without an ounce of hesitation or embarrassment. It amazed him that Merlin could be so nonchalant about the subject. Arthur glanced around to check for eavesdroppers and found the shop assistant watching them curiously, amused and thoughtful at the same time. He focused on Merlin as a lump of discomfort formed in his throat. He didn’t like being watched like this. He started to wonder whether stepping inside Get Stuffed was a huge mistake. “A little will go a long way, so take the application slow at first and then add more when required.”

“Okay,” Arthur answered quietly, still flushed with humiliation and uncertain whether he wanted to continue. But he reminded himself that he was doing this for Gwen. That he was doing this because Gwen harboured fantasies of pegging him that she’d never told him about. He’d found out when he’d decided to clear their browser history; following the few surprising links he’d spotted in the comprehensive list of their online actions had been a revelation. She’d been looking at harnesses. She’d also been reading erotic stories about women pegging their husbands and partners. Arthur hadn’t been able to get the idea out of his head after that — of being on his hands and knees for Gwen as she fucked him from behind as another man might.

That moment had led to walking into Get Stuffed and calling Merlin for help.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song referenced in this chapter is Gettin' Bi from Crazy Ex-Girlfriend.

Arthur followed Merlin around the shop floor as his best friend placed more items into his arms while explaining his reasoning for doing so. He filed those details away, intending to return to them once he had a chance to sit down and mull the situation over at home. Seeing his best friend hold up and inspect the various harnesses available while asking whether Gwen liked wearing thongs or not was the most humiliating part of the experience — the shop assistant started giggling as Arthur stammered in response and almost dropped his armful of products. His flush of humiliation deepened further all the while. But he told the truth all the same: Gwen _loved_ wearing thongs — but did so when she wanted to torture him with want while he was bound to the bed and incapable of touching her.

“ _That_ …is TMI.”

“You asked!”

“It was a simple question that required a simple answer.” Merlin sighed and rubbed his forehead before laughing, sounding frustrated and fond in the same breath. It wasn’t unlike all the other times Merlin had laughed at him since the moment their friendship began when Arthur woke up in the hospital after almost braining himself against that bench. “I didn’t need details about what she likes to get up to in bed. I think I might be scarred for life.”

“Shut up.” Arthur couldn’t help smiling at the man. “You’re just jealous.”

“Jealous?” Merlin laughed at the thought. “Of what?”

“The fact that a gorgeous woman is going to peg me soon. You’re missing out.”

“Whatever you say,” Merlin answered easily, returning his smile with a grin that stretched from ear to ridiculous ear. He waved the harness in his hand at him before placing it on the stack of items weighing down his arms. “Anyway, I think we’ve got the basics covered now. Head to the till so we can get out of here.”

Arthur followed the instruction as Merlin headed outside and avoided looking at the shop assistant as she scanned the barcodes of numerous plugs and dildos that ranged from miniscule to impressive. He shuffled from side to side as he waited for a chance to use his debit card. The woman chuckled in the face of his embarrassment. Arthur managed a strained smile as he finished handling the transaction and walked out of the store quickly, a bee in his bonnet as he muttered under his breath about poor customer service.

Merlin waited for him outside the car — which he’d parked down the street before heading into Get Stuffed. He leaned against the side almost smugly, his arms folded across his chest as he watched Arthur walk so fast that he’d have earned a gold medal at the Olympics. 

“How did it go?”

“Shut up.” Arthur huffed in growing irritation as he unlocked the car with a press of a button. He shoved his purchases into the backseat and then climbed in behind the steering wheel. He gestured for Merlin to get in and continued to complain as he did so. “You know I don’t like public humiliation.”

“What a pity,” Merlin replied smartly, amusement colouring his voice as he fastened his seatbelt immediately, “because I do. Nothing makes me happier than watching a prat walk themselves into a spot of public humiliation. You asked for help. I helped. Neither of us can change the fact that someone found amusement in the situation.”

“You just like to watch me suffer.” Arthur levelled an unimpressed glare at Merlin — whose mouth twitched with the urge to smile at him. He looked out through the windscreen as he started the car and guided her out from the parking space to slip into the nearest lane of light traffic. “You should train to be a dom. Put that sadism to good use.”

Merlin choked on a laugh.

Arthur fought a fond smile as the pair of them continued to bicker and banter for the rest of the journey, never quieting until he’d pulled up outside the apartment block that Merlin called home. He shifted the gear into neutral and engaged the handbrake before silencing the engine with a flick of his wrist. His stomach twisted as complete silence permeated the car and allowed him to focus on the future that awaited him when he opened those boxes in the backseat. The future that awaited him when he’d offer himself to Gwen on the night after the pride parade and party, when adrenaline and lusts would be at their highest. Renewed nerves bubbled and frothed inside him as unspoken questions weighed down his tongue. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the steering wheel as Merlin thanked him for the lift home and reached for the door.

“Merlin…” Arthur swallowed as his friend paused upon hearing his name carried on a ragged whisper of need and confusion. Merlin looked at him in surprise. Arthur fought the surge of anxious humiliation that coursed through him and asked quietly, “Will it hurt?”

Merlin gazed at him for a long moment before softening, something akin to understanding inscribing itself upon his features. His expression was almost paternal. Arthur wasn’t certain how he felt about that: the pair of them were the same age. But he supposed coming out of the closet at such a late stage was rather akin to toddling around like an infant when compared to the experiences Merlin had lived through since he’d come out as a pansexual at the tender age of thirteen. Reaching out to touch his arm in a show of support and solidarity, Merlin replied just as quietly, “Yes. It’ll burn at first. I won’t lie and claim it won’t…but the pain will be worth it in the end.”

“You sound certain about that.”

“I’ve never received a complaint.” Merlin smiled in amusement when Arthur blinked and gaped at him in surprise. He squeezed his shoulder and gave him a light shake to snap him out of it. “I’ve been around the block a few times and no one has ever stated it hadn’t felt good when I’d finished with them. Usually, people beg for more.”

Arthur swallowed and looked away, struck dumb with the knowledge that Merlin was a top. He’d pegged him as a bottom almost a decade ago. Merlin had been so sweet and gangly, when he wasn’t being an irritating and insolent squirt at least. Arthur had never considered that his insolence might be an indicator that he took a dominant role in bed. His face burned at the thought. Not that he’d spent a lot of time thinking about what Merlin did in bed when he’d attended university, no matter how handsome he’d been in his Death Dealer costume. His desire to have Merlin bite him had been a passing thought and nothing more than that. He hadn’t obsessed over the idea in the least. Certainly, he’d never thought about climbing into bed with him.

Arthur scrubbed a hand over his face. He didn’t need to think about Merlin pinning people of various genders to his bed and having his wicked away, no matter how tantalising the image was now. He slammed his forehead against the steering wheel and almost gave himself a heart attack when the horn blared through the darkness.

Merlin died laughing in the passenger seat as Arthur jumped out of his skin and wrenched himself back from the steering wheel as fast as possible. Arthur clutched at his chest as his heart did its best to explode from the unexpected shock of setting off the horn.

“Stop laughing, you fucking arsehole!”

“Then stop being funny,” Merlin retorted quickly, his burst of unrestrained giggles easing with each passing second. He wiped a tear from his face and shook his head before reaching out and patting his shoulder — heedless of the unimpressed glower that Arthur directed at him once his heart had calmed down. “I needed a good laugh tonight. Thanks!”

“You’re still an arsehole.”

“You love me all the same.”

“Do I?”

Merlin winked at him and reached for the door. He popped it open and climbed out of the car before leaning back in and continuing quietly, “The next time a personal shop assistant is required…don’t call me. Just remember to keep breathing and it’ll be fine. You won’t be the first anxious person to walk into an adult store and won’t be the last. Most of us need to face the prospect of shopping for dildos alone at some point in our lives.”

Arthur nodded and Merlin shut the door with a snap. He watched his friend increase the distance between himself and the car and unlock the door leading into the apartment block. He watched his friend disappear from view at last and released a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. His hands trembled as he started the car and shifted into first gear before releasing the handbrake and guiding his car back into a line of traffic. He tapped the steering wheel as he thought about what Merlin had said — about the pain of being penetrated being worth it in the end.

He hoped it would be.

He wanted the first time Gwen pegged him to feel delicious.

He’d just have to wait and see.

 

Arthur almost vibrated with the strength of his nerves as he and Gwen put the finishing touches on the banner the pair of them — and the queer ducklings she’d gained when she volunteered to be a guide and mentor to a few LGBTQ teens through the outreach programme that Balinor and Hunith had set up — had worked on for the last week. He stared down at the large pink and purple and blue letters and felt his heart swell. The fact that the faces of four of his favourite characters had been painted at either side of the caption brought a smile to his face as Gwen finished taping her side of the banner to one of the thick poles she’d purchased for that purpose. The pair of them leaned back after a moment and admired their work.

“It looks great!”

“I still can’t believe that song exists.” Arthur shook his head in amazement and looked down at the caption again. The banner read: _It doesn’t take an intellectual to get that I’m bisexual_. _Steve Rogers_ and _Agent Carter_ smiled up at him from either side of the banner. His stomach twisted with no small amount of attraction. He’d never stopped being enamoured with Steve and Peggy, no matter how long it had been since _Captain America: The First Avenger_ hit the screens when he was attending uni. He’d recognised Steve as a bisexual in an instant. _Agent Carter_ had been discovered later. “Whoever came up with it deserves a kiss.”

“I know! I’d kiss them for sure.” Gwen looked askance at him and smiled warmly, though doing so highlighted the bright splodge of purple paint staining her cheek. His heart clenched with affection at the sight. Arthur reached for her immediately, claiming her mouth with a suddenness that startled them both. His wife gazed at him with surprised delight. “What was that for?”

“I don’t know.” Arthur looked away, knowing that kissing people without much warning wasn’t proper or moral — even if the person he’d kissed was his wife. He fiddled with the paintbrush in his hand. An awkward laugh escaped him as he looked down at the faces of _Agent Carter_ and _Jake Pentacost_ that occupied one side of the banner while _Korra_ stood beside _Steve Rogers_ on the other side. He swirled his paintbrush in the cup of water nearby, doing his best to dawdle as he tried to formulate an answer that might make his action justifiable in her opinion. “I think I just had to. You looked so adorable.”

“Flatterer.” Gwen chuckled and shook her head before leaning in to press a kiss against his cheek in return. Her loving fingers carded through the hair at the back of his head for a moment and Arthur melted at her touch as usual. Her fingertips grazed his scalp. Several moments passed before Gwen released him and said gently, adoringly, “You’re so sensitive. I love it.”

Arthur glanced at his wife and couldn’t help smiling; he loved it when Gwen expressed remarks like that. He loved knowing that he was appreciated. Just as he loved ensuring that Gwen knew she was appreciated in return. He returned to what he was doing before she’d distracted him with her magical hands and swirled the paintbrush with more vigour before withdrawing it from the water and dabbing it against a wad of tissue to remove the remaining traces of paint. He admired their handiwork all over again and sighed happily, eager to raise the banner high with Gwen while her ducklings marched between them.

It was imperative that her ducklings be guarded during the march. Gwen had made that plain when Arthur had decided to attend and the pair of them had discussed the logistics of the parade together. Naturally, Arthur agreed with her on its importance. Coming out of the closet to friends was stressful enough without facing disdain or aggression from complete strangers and Arthur was mature enough to swallow his own fear in order to throw himself in front of them at the first sign of trouble. Arthur hadn’t met a single duckling, but he’d protect them all the same: children were the building blocks of the future.

Not to mention the fact that he considered all of her ducklings to be his too.

Arthur and Gwen worked together to finish taping the banner in place and clean up their mess. The pair of them then climbed to their feet and left the banner to dry, shutting the door so that neither of them would be tempted to go back into the living room and make more adjustments as the paint dried. Arthur carried the cups and paintbrushes into the kitchen while Gwen headed straight for the bin. She chucked several wads of tissue into it before filling the kettle to make a pot of tea.

That was when she noticed the purple paint decorating her cheek.

Gwen huffed at her reflection in the glass panel on the nearest cupboard door in irritation before grabbing a tea towel. She snapped it at his backside without warning, which earned an immediate gasp of shock. Arthur almost dropped the cups and paintbrushes before he could dump them in the sink.

“Thanks for telling me!”

“Sorry,” Arthur answered immediately, running a hand over his smarting backside and doing his best not to release a startled chuckle. He couldn’t help adding, “Keep whipping me like that and I’ll have to start omitting things on purpose.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“You can bet on it.” Arthur grinned cheekily, dumping his burden in the sink at last and turning to gather his wife in his arms. He trailed soft kisses over smooth skin as her lashes fluttered softly, sweetly, a blatant sign that she loved being in his arms and victim to his endless affection. Her pleasure emboldened him. He couldn’t help blurting, “I know we discussed the idea of pain play, but we never came to a decision in the end. I suppose the fault is mine for that. I know I wasn’t in a great headspace at the time and it made things difficult because I was still dealing with so much shit. Not to mention still struggling with opening up about certain things. But I’ve overcome a lot since then and I think we could reopen the discussion? Not this week. But sometime after the pride festival?”

Gwen beamed up at him and threw her arms around his neck excitedly, earning a startled laugh as she jumped him and almost toppled him in the process. Arthur caught her quickly, hands providing support and comfort as he made efforts to regain his balance. Then he twirled around the kitchen with her before setting her down upon the nearest granite countertop and kissing her deeply, running his hands over her bisexual braids. Gwen returned his kiss fervently, her legs still wrapped around his waist. She devoured him until his lips grew sore from their mutual ardour and then she cradled his face tenderly, still smiling, asking softly, “What brought this decision about?”

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately,” Arthur answered quietly, his brow furrowing a fraction. He tapped his fingers against the countertop as he mulled his words over before voicing them at last. “Fear and hesitation have both prevented me from doing so much since I was a boy, and I want to change that. I want to expand the comfort zones we’ve established together. I want to explore and experience more things and find out what I like. I want to find out what sensations I love. Perhaps I won’t like being spanked. Perhaps I will. I won’t know until we explore that and I’ve reached a point where I feel like I can do that now. Is that alright?”

“Of course!” Gwen pressed a kiss against the tip of his nose and giggled when he scrunched it in response. She pressed another kiss against the bridge before winding her arms around him and tucking his head beneath her chin. Arthur wound his arms around her in return and listened to the warm words that flowed over him a moment later. “I’d have been content even if we never explored spanking together for as long as we lived. You’re the one that makes me happy, not spanking or the other kinks we’ve explored together. I’d still be happy, even if all we did was cuddle and hold hands and sleep next to each other for the rest of our lives.”

“You mean that?”

“As much as I meant our wedding vows and more.” Gwen tightened her arms around him. Her warm breath ghosted across his scalp and Arthur sighed in pleasure as he shuffled even closer to the woman he loved. Her pulse remained a constant beat as she cradled him close to her. Gwen brushed several kisses against his hair and continued softly, “What makes our relationship special isn’t sex or experimenting with kink. Our relationship is strong and beautiful without those things. You mean the world to me.”

Arthur tightened his arms around her in reply, but said nothing, feeling too content to luxuriate in her presence to do more than nestle against her now. Several minutes of comfortable silence passed as the pair relaxed together after their brief discussion of exploring spanking in the future and the admission of such strong sentiment in the wake of that discussion.

That was when the kettle decided to boil.

Chuckling softly, Gwen tapped his shoulder and Arthur stepped away, grumbling about cockblocking kitchen appliances as she hopped down from the counter. Gwen snorted in amusement and shook her head as she breezed past him and plucked two mugs from the hooks under the cupboard.

Arthur settled at the dining table and watched as his wife devoted her attention to making tea while humming, a contented smile dancing across her lips as usual. She looked so happy, so comfortable with the path her life had taken. Sometimes he envied her comfort and confidence. Arthur wasn’t unhappy, but there were times when the weight of his secret had threatened to crush him underfoot. Had threatened to splinter the warm comfort of their marriage. Even now there were moments when he questioned his own validity, his own sexuality, as he remembered the comment his colleague had made in the bathroom at work and the comments his father had made when he was growing up. Sometimes he feared the world he’d been raised in was right all along — that he was just confused.

That he wasn’t a real bisexual.

Arthur was often tempted to gorge on chocolate and pastries during those moments of intense insecurity, wanting to combat the negative emotions with false positivity, but he knew that he’d never be able to stop eating once he started. He had an enormous sweet tooth. He approached his wife during those moments instead and took comfort from the warm arms that wrapped around him. He took strength from the soft assurances Gwen would murmur against his hair as the pair of them curled up together — that such doubts and insecurities were common in the bisexual community, after being conditioned to think a certain way, but it was possible to overcome internalised biphobia in time with support and acceptance from others.

That was the reason Merlin had started Bi + Albion in the first place.

Building the organisation from the ground up had been a long and arduous process with endless pitfalls. That had been explained in the information booklet that Merlin gave him when he’d come out a few weeks ago. Apparently, it had taken an overwhelming amount of blood and sweat and tears to get the word out about the organisation and get volunteers to help him moderate the online spaces. Not to mention organising and facilitating social nights each month to ease the overwhelming sense of isolation that its members experienced so often — members living in rural areas in particular.

Volunteers working for Bi + Albion had to be trained to deal with sensitive issues that affected the members of the bi + community, which included racism and transphobia. Merlin had his hands full with ensuring that there was support and acceptance for the various identities that came to Bi + Albion for help. He and his moderators were calm and decisive when someone breached the rules of the bi + community; four people had been ejected since its inception. Others had been directed to various informative resources to help educate themselves on certain issues when a misstep had been made in ignorance and without malice.

Merlin was a good man.

Arthur had known that since university, naturally, but he hadn’t realised how far and how deep that goodness stretched. He hadn’t known that his waking hours had been devoted to building a safe space for people like him when Merlin wasn’t bent over his studies in sociology, political science, and public health.

Merlin was a better man and a better friend than Arthur had ever realised.

Perhaps a better one than Arthur deserved.

Arthur hadn’t done much to return the favour.

Certainly, he’d listened as Merlin had ranted for hours on end about the various injustices that people like them faced. He’d been the one holding the punching bag when Merlin couldn’t contain his frustrations and had to leave them out without hurting someone in the process. He’d offered him a drink or taken him somewhere boisterous and fun in an attempt to distract him from his troubles for a while. To give him a chance to let go of his burdens and relax. But he hadn’t offered emotional support at rallies and marches that Merlin and Gwen and their mutual friends had attended together. He hadn’t raised his voice when bi + individuals were erased in the media or from local history, or even from plaques and speeches commemorating the lives of queers murdered and imprisoned during the holocaust and other atrocities. He’d bowed his head in shame and tucked his tail between his legs instead. He hadn’t been the friend that Merlin deserved or the husband that Gwen deserved because he’d been too afraid that people would see past his protests and discover the truth. He’d been too afraid that people would discover his raw attractions and out him when he couldn’t even speak the word in front of his own reflection in the mirror.

“Those thoughts look painful.”

Arthur looked up quizzically, humming distractedly, his hands cradling his own mug of tea and soaking up the available warmth as he wondered what expressions had flickered across his face while he’d been thinking.

Gwen smiled at him and added gently, “Want to talk about it?”

“I feel like I need to apologise.”

“For what? Spacing out?”

“Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.” Arthur shook his head and looked down at his steaming tea for several moments. His hands tightened around his mug, but he forced them to relax a moment later as the heat against his palms grew too sharp to bear for long. His brow furrowed as he considered each of his words carefully, weighing them one at a time before voicing them at last. He raised his gaze and spoke slowly, hesitantly, each word that escaped underscored with confusion and no small amount of doubt until he managed to gain a scrap of confidence in his thoughts. “I was thinking about Merlin and the others. I need to apologise to them. I haven’t been a good friend since we graduated. I had countless opportunities to show support in the past and I never did.”

Gwen stared at him.

Arthur couldn’t help snapping, “What?”

Her expression looked as though her brain was buffering, which might have been funny, if it wasn’t for the topic of discussion. He wasn’t in the mood for being mocked. Arthur shifted in discomfort and looked away, wondering whether he’d made a mistake in voicing his feelings.

“Don’t use that tone with me.” Arthur returned his attention to his wife when Gwen spoke the command quietly, but firmly, using a tone that wasn’t unlike the one she’d use when commanding him to strip upstairs. The tone she used now wasn’t sexy, exactly, but it tugged at certain strings within him all the same. His abdomen tightened in response. His heart tried to punch a hole through his chest. Gwen softened as he gazed at her and said gently, “You’ve been a great friend and a wonderful husband. We have never felt otherwise. A show of support doesn’t have to be a big thing, Arthur. Sometimes the most important demonstrations of support are the small things — the things that get overlooked. Things like holding hands in the car when bad news is announced on the radio. A glance shared across a room when someone voices an ignorant opinion. A clap on the shoulder to demonstrate pride and encouragement. A protective step forward when someone makes a threatening move on the street. You do those things without being asked. We never had to push to get the support and acceptance we needed.”

“But —”

“No buts.” Gwen smiled at him again and reached across the table — as she had when he’d come out a few weeks ago. Arthur smiled in return and captured her hand at once. He laced their fingers as the warmth from their tea fused. Their smiles brightened in the same instant. Gwen continued gently, warmly, adding, “You’re a good man. Never doubt that.”

“Okay,” Arthur replied as he raised their joined hands. He pressed a soft kiss against her wedding ring, his lips grazing her skin as he did so. His smile softened as her cheeks warmed in response. He knew how much she loved kisses like that. How much it reminded her of girlhood dreams of handsome princes and adventure. “What would I do without such a strong and wise woman to turn to?”

“Crash and burn.”

“Undoubtedly,” Arthur answered laughingly, relinquishing her hand and relaxing in his chair. He raised his mug and sipped his tea for a moment before continuing to cradle it and soak up its warmth through his hands. “I can’t believe there are two sleeps left until the pride parade.”

“I suppose it still feels too good to be true.”

“Yeah. Honestly, it feels like I’m dreaming.” Arthur looked down at his tea and stared at it for a moment. Then he looked at Gwen once more. “The last few weeks have just been so surreal. Part of me is terrified that I’ll wake up tomorrow and discover I’m still trapped in that fucking closet. I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to live in a world where I can’t be honest with the people I care about.”

“Thankfully, it isn’t a dream.” Gwen smiled at him warmly, her gaze soft with no small amount of understanding. She tapped the side of her mug with her fingers. “You’re going to wake up in a world where both of us can be out and proud together.”

“I’m looking forward to marching,” Arthur replied eagerly, though his heart tried to gallop out of his chest at the thought. While part of him was terrified of marching, another part of him looked forward to standing beside his wife and friends at long last. He looked forward to having his voice heard for the first time. He looked forward to being included in the celebrations afterwards. Arthur raised his mug and smirked before sipping his tea and murmuring, “But I think I’m more excited about the party; I can’t wait to head down to Inferno with the others. I’m having far too much fun imagining what we’ll wear.”

“ _Clothes_.”

“Obviously,” Arthur scoffed immediately, though his expression grew teasing less than a moment later. He leaned forward in his chair and waggled his brows at Gwen. She looked away, her cheeks dimpling, the corner of her mouth twitching as she tried not to smile in response. She raised her mug to hide the smile that started blossoming without her consent and sipped her tea for a moment. Arthur couldn’t help the swell of affection he experienced at the sight and was quick to say, “We haven’t gone clubbing together in so long. I’m looking forward to dancing together again!”

“I’m not sure I’ll go clubbing this time.”

“What?!” Arthur almost dropped his mug. He managed to save the contents — and his lap — in the nick of time. He set it aside quickly, his heart hammering, hoping that he hadn’t heard what he thought he’d heard. “You can’t leave me go alone!”

“You won’t be alone.” Gwen shrugged and looked away, hands tightening around her mug of tea. An inexplicable tension settled in her shoulders. “You’ll have Merlin and the others to dance with. You’ll survive a night without me.”

“But I don’t want to.” Arthur frowned deeply, watching his wife raise her mug and hide behind it as he continued to gaze at her. His heart twisted in his chest. Doubt soured his stomach. “You don’t want to be seen with me at the club…?”

“That isn’t what I meant. You know it isn’t.” Gwen sighed and rubbed her temple for a moment. She didn’t look at him. “I’ve been going to Inferno since I was nineteen. The people and attitudes in there haven’t changed in over a decade. I think I’d prefer to come home after the parade and watch some _Star Trek_ this time.”

“But it’ll be different this time: I’ll be there.”

“Arthur…”

“Is it racism?” Arthur reached out and something akin to relief flickered through him when Gwen let him capture her hand with his. He squeezed gently, reassuringly, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. He gazed at her imploringly, begging her to explain her reluctance to go clubbing with him. “Is that the reason? Because I won’t let attitudes like that go unchallenged. You know I wouldn’t. None of our friends would.”

“Neither would I. But that isn’t the reason.” Gwen squeezed his hand back. Something in his chest eased at the show of affection. Arthur continued to stroke her hand as Gwen frowned at him. He could almost hear the cogs in her head whirring as she thought about what to say, how to explain her reluctance in a manner that he wouldn’t argue against. “You deserve to have an amazing time at that party, and I feel like being there would interfere with that. Your first pride should be a wonderful experience. It would be better to go clubbing with Merlin this time.”

“But I don’t want to go with Merlin.” Arthur frowned deeply, a sinking feeling in his gut. There was something she wasn’t telling him. His stomach twisted at the thought. His grip tightened in an attempt to reassure himself. “I want to go with the woman I love. You said I’d wake up in a world where we could both be out and proud together. This is our chance.”

 “Okay,” Gwen said eventually, weary, squeezing his hand once more. “I’ll go. But I want Merlin to come with us. I don’t want him to meet us at Inferno: I want him to arrive with us. Is that alright?”

Arthur beamed at her in delight.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, this fic is now over 23K.
> 
> T_T
> 
> Feel free to let me know what you think!

Arthur tried to hide the faint tremor in his hands as he followed his wife down Prince Street and headed for the meeting point designated for the parade. His stomach twisted with discomfort as pointed stares and scowls followed him as he passed by, though there were a few intermittent smiles as well. It discomfited him to see the number of people that weren’t pleased to see the bisexual pride flag Gwen had drawn on his cheek at his request. She’d used her liquid liners to do so. Arthur had drawn a matching flag on hers in return. Actually, he’d drawn it and washed it off several times because his hand kept shaking, but Gwen had suffered through the experience well enough. She’d even smiled at him with fond exasperation until he managed to draw one decently, which had earned a crow of triumph from Arthur.

Thinking about that moment brought a smile to his mouth.

Arthur glanced at Gwen and the rolled banner she carried on her shoulder. She’d declined when he’d offered to shoulder it himself and now she was striding down the street like a woman on a mission. He supposed she was on a mission — to challenge biphobia and heteronormativity, to raise her banner like a middle finger to those who’d spit on her and others like them. She was on a mission to find and protect her ducklings from harm. Gwen was on fire with purpose and Arthur was in awe of her natural confidence and zeal. He was in awe of the steel that reinforced her spine and sharpened her gaze as she cut through the throngs of people on the footpath until she found one of the stewards and asked what number Bi + Albion had been given in the line-up.

Once she learned the number was twenty, Gwen thanked the steward and continued on her way, Arthur hastening to catch up and snare one of her hands tightly, squeezing to reassure himself as the pair of them dived into a thickening crowd that stood between them and the mustering point for Bi + Albion. Gwen squeezed his hand in return — she knew and understood how much Arthur struggled with large crowds of strangers when he felt outnumbered and trapped. Arthur focused on maintaining his breathing as the crowd seemed to press on him from all sides before the pair of them managed to slip free and find their mustering point at last. A warm wave of relief pulsed through him as soon as Arthur was free of the crowd and he let the fresh air flood through his lungs.

Gwen relinquished his hand as soon he’d taken that deep breath and then set the banner down carefully, ensuring it remained a safe distance from the feet traipsing through the street. Neither of them wanted to see the banner get soiled before the parade even started. Arthur continued to hover near his wife as she took out her smartphone and unlocked the screen with her password — the date of their first kiss. A fond smile danced across his mouth as Gwen snapped a quick photograph of the Twitter float parked on the other side of the street before sending the photograph and a brief message to her ducklings through their group-chat on _WhatsApp_. His smile broadened as she received an excited burst of messages simultaneously, her ducklings eager to respond. Gwen grinned down at her smartphone and then locked it before slipping it back into her pocket. Arthur turned and looked around him as people continued to bustle around the area and soon spotted a familiar face.

Merlin stood a few feet away, flirting with one of the stewards as the man clutched at his clipboard. Arthur had seen his friend using those expressive brows with such deliberate skill on numerous occasions: when he’d speak with the receptionist at university, leaving her enraptured and blushing, and when he’d be on the pull at nightclubs. He’d even used them on Arthur a few times before he and Gwen began dating, though Arthur hadn’t realised Merlin had been flirting with him at the time.

Or perhaps he hadn’t wanted to notice.

Part of him leaned toward the latter now that he’d come out of the closet at last. Now that he’d had time to think about things objectively, to look back and speculate on his past behaviour.

Sometimes he couldn’t help wondering whether Merlin still thought about him that way, even slightly, but he doubted it: almost a decade had passed since Merlin had stopped flirting with him like that. Arthur knew the man identified as poly, but there were lines that Merlin wouldn’t cross and lusting after someone who’d started dating and who’d later married someone else was one of them. Not unless that person was open to the idea of being an ethical non-monogamist in some fashion. Merlin wasn’t a homewrecker. He’d rather cut off his own arm than disrupt a relationship between people that loved each other.

Arthur admired that devotion to his code of honour.

If he and Gwen ever decided to have children someday, he hoped at least one of them would take after their uncle of sorts. He’d love to see a child emulating the wholesome attitudes and beliefs his best friend harboured. Not to mention that ridiculous smile. Not that he’d ever tell Merlin about this wish — his friend would never let him live down the embarrassment.

Merlin happened to turn and catch him in the act of watching him flirt with the steward then. The sudden appearance of blue storms above a fine beard distracted Arthur from his thoughts of children at once. Merlin startled at the sight of them and then waved cheerfully, murmuring something to the steward before making a beeline toward Arthur and Gwen without an ounce of hesitation. His frame almost vibrated with excited energy, which spoke of his enthusiastic personality, and Arthur couldn’t prevent a fond smile from curling his lips at the sight.

“You came!” Merlin threw his arms around him in a crushing embrace before Arthur could react. His enthusiasm winded him slightly, but Arthur returned the hug before it could end. It wasn’t often that he and Merlin embraced like that. He wasn’t going to step away, not now. Not on such a momentous occasion. Honestly, Arthur felt like he needed all the hugs and encouragement that he could get his hands on. Coming down to the parade had been a draining experience and he still had to march through the heart of Camelot. Merlin withdrew eventually, though he kept a warm hand on his shoulder as he went on to say, “I feared we’d lose our newest member to a burst of anxiety, but I’m glad I was proven wrong. You deserve to be here with us.”

“You should have seen him earlier.”

“Hush.” Arthur swatted his wife and grinned as she danced away, giggling, but gave no chase. He focused on Merlin instead and offered a lopsided smile that spoke of his hesitation. “I’ll admit it was a near thing. I couldn’t stop shaking this morning. Still can’t. But I’m here and queer and people better get fucking used to it.”

“The ones that refuse to will answer to me.”

“Actually, I believe the job of defending his honour is _mine_.” Gwen smiled in amusement at their twin expressions of scandalised outrage. “That blackbelt in Krav Maga has to be good for something. Kicking names and taking ass is what I live for.”

Merlin snorted in amusement as Arthur started screaming internally, his face taking on the same buffering expression that had plagued his wife the other day; his expression served to heighten the wave of bisexual panic that rippled through him. He hoped she hadn’t discovered his collection of dildos and plugs. He’d done his best to hide the dildos and plugs in the most inconceivable places — such as behind a line of cleaning products in the closet in the hallway, not too far from the master bedroom. He’d hidden the harness he intended to give her under a floorboard under the vanity, where her feet didn’t quite reach and wouldn’t detect that the board had come loose.

“That came out wrong,” Gwen blurted immediately, a bead of sweat sliding down from her temple as she realised what she’d said. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Taking ass isn’t what I live for! I mean…I’m sure it’s great! Not that I’d know, of course. But some people like it and…and…”

“You’re fine.” Merlin kissed her cheek quickly, wrapping her up in a warm embrace from behind and smiling. “You don’t have to be such an awkward bean over it. We understood! It was just a slip of the tongue.”

“Some people think a slip of the tongue is a fault of the mind.”

“True.” Merlin nodded toward Arthur and conceded to the point he’d made — but he winked and smirked less than a moment later. Standing behind Gwen ensured his expression wasn’t noticed while still making Arthur squirm where he stood. Merlin made a point of adding, “But people participating in this parade aren’t going to think taking ass is a fault of the mind.”

Arthur and Gwen choked on a giggle in the same instant and then looked at each other before devolving into a fit of laughter that neither of them could contain. Each time Arthur managed to get control of his laughing, a single glance at the woman he wanted to peg him into the mattress was enough to set him off again.

Which just set Gwen off again.

Merlin sighed and shook his head exasperatedly, but fondly, reaching out to pull Arthur into another hug as he tried to get his laughter under control. Fortunately, the warmth of his arm acted as a grounding force and his uncontrollable laughter started fading, easing back into bursts of tired huffs as Arthur wiped mirth from his lashes with a shaking hand. His abdomen twitched a few times with the urge to keep laughing before settling at last and leaving him tired. Not to mention aching. His abdomen often ached after a good laugh and this was no different. Arthur rested his forehead against the braids nearest him and reached out to gather Gwen closer as Merlin tightened his arms around both of them. Gwen wrapped an arm around him in return. Arthur sighed wearily, allowing himself to appreciate the warm embrace from the two people he cared about most for a moment.

“Fucking whores!”

Arthur startled upon hearing those words and wrenched himself away, whirling around to see a man in a rainbow garland — who wasn’t much older than him — glaring at them viciously, his mouth twisting around a derisive sneer.

“Just ignore him.” Merlin snared his shoulder and pinned him in place before Arthur could storm after him and deck him for insulting the people he cared about. Gwen captured and squeezed his hand. Arthur turned and looked at them in surprise. His gut twisted: neither of them seemed surprised at receiving such an insult from a fellow member of the LGBTQ community; that thought didn’t sit well with him. Arthur glanced at the man who’d insulted them and contemplated ignoring his friend completely, the urge to go after him almost overwhelming. Merlin tightened his grip immediately, as though he’d sensed the turn of his thoughts. “You’ll just start a brawl and the police will be forced to get involved. None of us want that. Challenging his attitude isn’t worth the trouble it’ll bring down on our organisation and its members.”

“But —”

“I’m serious. You know I’m not one for pulling punches when someone deserves them.” Merlin eased his grip and rubbed his shoulder as Gwen interlaced their fingers to ensure he remained at their side. “If it were another day, I wouldn’t have intervened. I’d have punched him first. You know that.”

Arthur nodded in agreement and swallowed thickly, fighting his instincts to defend the people he loved from the person who’d attacked them with such vicious words. He squeezed the hand gripping his and tried to draw strength from the woman he’d married. Gwen squeezed his hand in return. She rose on her toes and pressed a kiss against the bridge of his nose before turning as someone called her name loudly, a beam of delight dawning across her features as three teenagers pushed through the crowd.

“Brenda Chang,” the first said immediately, thrusting one hand out in greeting. Her other arm remained tucked around a bundle of signs. Thin lips painted with pink gloss curled around a warm smile as Arthur accepted her hand without hesitation. He ran a curious gaze over the teen and catalogued her most noticeable traits. Her glasses complimented the soft contours of her face. Her hair was black mainly, but a lock of pink hair swooped down to her chin. She wore a _Queen_ t-shirt and a pair of jeans with pink _Doc Martens_. “You must be Arthur!”

“I am. Gwen has told me so much — it feels great to put a face to a familiar name at long last!” Arthur smiled warmly, knowing he was going to cherish this one already; her blatant appreciation for _Queen_ was enough to earn her a place in his heart at once. He relinquished her hand after a moment and turned his attention toward the other two ducklings. He almost made an assumption about which was which before hesitating, aware that he could make a misstep without realising it and hurt one of them. He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment before asking, “Which is Nikita and which is Sam?”

“ _I’m_ Nikita. Nikita Chakrabarti.” Arthur blinked in surprise upon hearing the sharp tone directed at him. He looked at Nikita immediately, noticing their tense grip on the arms of their wheelchair. Several dark hairs lined their forearms from wrist to elbow and the beginnings of a moustache graced their upper lip. Their brown gaze threatened to incinerate him where he stood and Arthur almost retreated as being scrutinized aggravated his anxiety; not to mention the fact that he knew when his presence wasn’t wanted. But he forced himself to release a calming breath and offered his hand in greeting, aware that he wasn’t the first cisgender man these teens had met. He doubted all of them had been pleasant to deal with. Nikita ignored his hand. “I’ll accept she and they; I hope that won’t be an issue.”

“Of course not.” Arthur lowered his hand belatedly, feeling like an idiot. He glanced at Gwen and swallowed a sigh when she offered an apologetic smile and a shrug. He looked at Nikita and managed a small smile as he tried to squash his own sense of discomfort. Surely, Nikita just needed some time to warm up to him before welcoming him as Brenda had. Arthur knew being queer was harder for some than it was for others. There were identities and intersections that he’d never experience and would never understand fully, but he’d do his best for these kids. “I look forward to hearing more about the outreach programme and its benefits to the community; I’ve been thinking about volunteering in the future.”

“I’m sure the administrators will be delighted to hear it. We need more volunteers in the programme: there are three times more kids that need guidance than volunteers to help them at the moment.” Arthur looked at the last duckling, who smiled warmly, and held his hand out. He was delighted when Sam accepted the offer without hesitation. He was also surprised to experience such a strong and confident grip from someone still going through their teens. Adolescence was one of the most important building blocks in forming the people these teens were meant to become. His surprise morphed into prideful relief as he realised the teen in front of him had reached a good place. Sam was tall and gangly, which wasn’t unlike the build Merlin had when he attended university; the difference being the black binder just visible beneath the material of their top. Short russet hair curled naturally, emphasising an emerald gaze that sparkled in the afternoon sunshine. Sam stood behind Nikita and one hand rested on their shoulder soothingly, but also protectively, thumb rubbing a gentle circle where fabric met skin. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to discern the pair of them were a couple as Sam said brightly, “Obviously, I’m Sam. Sam Prescott — male pronouns are required.”

“Good to know.” Arthur beamed at him and then flicked his attention between the three of them. Nikita now held one of the signs Brenda Chang had tucked under arm while moving through the crowds dominating the street. It read: _Fuck the Cis-tem_. A fist had been painted in transgender pride colours next to the caption. His heart clenched in his chest at the sight. Fuck the Cis-tem indeed. It was no surprise that Nikita and others like them were angry; Arthur had grown up around the kind of comments that would hurt and infuriate even the softest and most serene individual. He promised himself that he’d do better for these kids and for the future that awaited the generation that would follow them. “Excited for the parade?”

“Absolutely,” Brenda replied at once. She waved her sign at him. Arthur almost laughed when he read the caption. Her sign read: _Gotta Poke ’Em All!_ An open pokéball had been painted in pansexual pride colours next to the caption and a number of shapes were dotted around the sign. Arthur mistook them for _Unknown_ before he leaned in closer and recognised two of the shapes: male and female. He gasped in shock as realisation washed through him in a sudden burst. He snapped his delighted gaze upwards at once and Brenda beamed at him knowingly, a bright spark in her gaze. “Yup! Those shapes are a varied and expansive representation of gender!”

“Amazing,” Arthur breathed as he returned his attention to the diverse range of gender representation on the sign. Wonder curled through him like vines. He couldn’t even name most of the shapes decorating the sign. That fact surprised and saddened him: these were things thought should have been taught in school as part of sex education. Arthur raised his head again. “I had no idea there were so many, Brenda!”

“Neither did I.” Brenda grinned cheerfully, turning her sign around and looking down at it with understandable warmth. “Not until I started researching the overlap of certain sexualities to figure out who I am and where I stand on the spectrum. I identified as bisexual for a while before realising it didn’t quite fit. I feel more comfortable as a pansexual.”

“You felt there was a limit to bisexuality,” Arthur asked in confused surprise.

“Of course not.” Brenda shook her head. She lowered her sign and looked at him sharply, assessing him as she spoke. Her glasses gleamed in the sunshine. “An attraction to same and different genders is as valid as an attraction regardless of gender. I have no issue with bisexuality; it doesn’t exclude genders. Individuals do. You can find a transphobe wearing a multitude of different sexualities — it has no bearing on the group as a whole!”

Arthur hummed quietly, lost in thought as what she’d said bounced around his head for several moments. He’d heard about transphobes before: Gwen had ranted about them on more than one occasion. He could remember her complaining about a meeting with the pride committee she’d attended in the past and exclaiming that one of them had been a fucking transphobe. She’d slammed pots and pans around as she’d emptied the dishwasher and told him about the meeting, about the blatant insinuation that ciswomen needed a safe space from transwomen during the pride festival! Arthur had sidled up behind her and wrapped his arms around her in an attempt to soothe her turbulent emotions before Gwen ruined their collection of pots and pans in her frustration. He’d guided her through her breathing as she’d often done for him in the past and then he’d suggested speaking out about it on social media to encourage a push back from the community, to pressure the rest of the pride committee to change their stance on the matter despite the continued presence of the transphobe.

Fortunately, the transphobe had soon been pushed out of the pride committee.

It was no less than she’d deserved for her intolerance.

A pride committee that tried to push the trans communities to the side or under the rug weren’t worth having, Arthur knew. He was glad that his suggestion to take the matter to social media had resulted in something positive for the local community, but it was just one step in the long march for equal treatment.

Arthur reached out and wrapped an arm around Gwen slowly, a wave of pride washing through his chest as he remembered that his wife had been marching for equal rights and equal treatment for so long. Now he had the chance to take his place beside her and march for those rights with her. He should have been marching all along, but now he had the chance to right that wrong and push for a better future. Arthur turned his head and pressed a kiss against a purple braid adoringly, a smile curling his lips.

Gwen turned her head a fraction and nuzzled against his face as she snuggled into his embrace for a moment. She slid her own arm around his waist in return and squeezed tenderly, possessively, letting him and the others gathered at the meeting point know that she cherished him. His smile deepening, Arthur brushed several kisses against her forehead and the bridge of her nose before planting a soft kiss against her lips. Her own smile deepened in response and Gwen reached up to ruffle his hair fondly, giggling when Arthur scrunched his nose in protest.

“You’re so fucking cute.” Brenda threw her arms up in frustration and almost brained Sam with her sign in the process. She grimaced immediately, apologising, before going on to say, “I wish had a partner. I feel like a third wheel.”

Arthur laughed as Merlin commiserated with Brenda a moment later.

“You little shit. You were just flirting with the steward!”

“I resent that remark.” Merlin sniffed indignantly, looking away, but the corner of his mouth twitched with the urge to smile. Arthur thumped his shoulder at once. Merlin rubbed his upper arm and bemoaned loudly, “You’ll never stop being a prat.”

“I don’t have to.” Arthur smirked smugly, wanting to thump him again and swallowing the urge. He knew that most people didn’t consider a thump to the shoulder a sign of affection. It would be better to pander to the audience. “You love me as I am.”

“I love _arses_. You just bear a striking resemblance!”

Nikita burst out laughing, a warm and deep sound that startled a burst of laughter out of Arthur as well. He tilted his head in surprise. It was odd to see them laughing after witnessing such tension and aggravation during their introduction earlier. But he wasn’t going to question it. He was glad to see the tension between them breaking at last and smiled to let them know that.

Perhaps there was hope for a cordial relationship between them after all.

He’d just have to wait and see. 

The group continued to chat about this and that as more members of Bi + Albion trickled in slowly, filling up the space around them until Gwen and Arthur had to pick up and unroll the banner to protect it from damage. Some of the new arrivals were familiar: Arthur was quick to lose himself in conversation with Gwaine Badcock and his partners — Elena Carmichael and Percival Armstrong, both of whom were smiling and happy, arms linked in an open alliance against the world around them. Arthur had known Gwaine and Percival since he’d attended university, but Elena was a new acquaintance.

Elena and Gwaine had started dating in January, not long after the pair of them met at two consecutive Christmas parties — as members of staff during one of them and as guests during the other one. That had been the beginning of something beautiful. Gwaine adored her: it was more than apparent with each casual touch and each lingering glance. Elena and Percival also respected each other immensely, each of them knowing and understanding how much Gwaine cared about the other.  

Elena was a straight ally, but Percival was demisexual and biromantic. His relationship with Gwaine had developed slowly, having begun as a loose acquaintance that morphed into something deeper with each passing month.

Arthur could remember watching the spark between them grow until suddenly, but inevitably, Gwaine and Percival admitted to being a couple over a few drinks while out with the lads. He could remember feeling his heart clench in his chest later as he’d stumbled out from the bar and witnessed the pair of them kissing slowly, tenderly, but messily, the pair of them drunk as fools and leaning into each other beneath the warm glow of a streetlamp. He’d wanted the earth to swallow him whole and he’d wanted to watch them kiss forever. The abundant affection swelling between them had threatened to choke him as his legs had refused to move. An almost violent and desperate need had burned through his veins even as his head had started ringing. His stomach had twisted sharply, nausea rising, and he’d managed to turn at last in order to crumple to his knees and vomit behind a skip. Arthur could still remember the burning shame that flooded through him as Percival and Gwaine had come to help.

Arthur shook his head to dislodge the memory, banishing the phantom taste of vomit from his tongue and the acrid burn from his throat. He didn’t like remembering that moment from his past: it hadn’t been one of his finest.

Leon and his parents arrived soon after Gwaine and his partners.

Arthur greeted him and his parents cheerfully, though he couldn’t help the envious pang that flared within his chest at the sight of them. That envious pang flared each time he saw them together. He’d have sold his soul to have parents as kind and supportive as Philip and Bernadette Leodegrance. He’d have sold his soul to see his father look so proud and happy, standing beside him and declaring himself an ally, but gaining the support of Lord Uther Pendragon wasn’t possible — not in private and never in public.

That was a truth he’d had to swallow a long time ago.

As though Merlin and Gwen could sense his emotions churning silently, Merlin touched his elbow for a moment while Gwen captured his hand and laced their fingers together. It reminded him that he wasn’t alone — that the absence of his father didn’t matter because Gwen and Merlin would never leave his side. No matter what difficulties he’d face in the future. Swallowing thickly, Arthur took strength from that silent show of support from the people that stuck with him through thick and thin and put his past behind him quickly, not wanting the skeletons still trapped in the closet he’d climbed out of to distort his experience of the parade and the broader pride festival in general.

Leon wore a hoodie that said: _I’m The Ace Up My Sleeve._ He was also panromantic. It was the reason he’d joined Bi + Albion in the first place. The organisation was designed for all those who weren’t monosexual or monoromantic in some shape or form. Members of the group ranged from something as light as heteroflexible to pansexuality, with a multitude of wonderful identities cropping up in between.

Leon just wanted someone to cuddle and hold hands with for the rest of his life. He wanted the emotional intimacy, but harboured no interest in having sex. Personally, Arthur thought that was beautiful and believed it reflected the truest nature of love. Love was companionship. It was warmth and laughter and trust. It was a combination of communication and compromise. Most importantly, it was hard work. An intimate relationship didn’t need sex to survive. He and Gwen both knew that. He didn’t have to have to sex with his wife to know he wanted to sleep beside her for as long as he lived.

Arthur couldn’t understand the disdain that asexuals experienced.

He looked at Philip and Bernadette.

The pair of them carried matching signs declaring that the A didn’t stand for ally, which earned a smile from the gathered group. The pair of them chatted together excitedly, their upper-class accents ringing through. Like Arthur and his own family, Leon had come from a place of immense wealth and privilege that few others could match. It had been a point of contention on multiple occasions when the pair of them attended uni. But Leon had used that wealth to do good: he’d helped fund the purchase of land and the construction of headquarters for Bi + Albion at the heart of Camelot.

It was a small building, but comfortable and functional — two things that an organisation required to help local communities. It contained office space and a welcoming sitting room for those that popped in to visit on their lunchbreaks. It had a recreational space for teens at the weekend.

There was even a counsellor on site for emotional emergencies.

Merlin had insisted on putting a plaque bearing his name on the sitting room wall despite embarrassed protestations from Leon. Arthur had seen the plaque several times when he’d accompanied Gwen to the headquarters for a vigorous game of twister with Merlin and the others after a long week at work. He could still remember when Lancelot Rousseau — one of the friends he’d made at university, who happened to be bisexual — had lost his balance and fallen hard enough to send Arthur toppling, the pair of them crushing Merlin to the mat in the process. There’d been knees in dangerous places and strong hips flush against his arse as a rush of French curse words tickled his ear. Merlin had groaned in pain and sprawled insensate beneath Arthur while he’d tried to stave the blush that rose to his face.

Gwen had died laughing at them while doing her best not to choke on a pie.

Smiling, Arthur shoved the recollection aside — a good thing, since Lancelot burst out of the thick crowd a moment later. It wouldn’t do to be caught remembering the moment Lancelot had been flush against him. Lancelot panted with relief at having made it through the thick crowd and wiped sweat from his brow before waving, smiling, his handsome features warming with no small amount of affection. Lancelot was never one to conceal his feelings: he wore them on his sleeve constantly, which sometimes led to difficult situations that required tact because no one wanted to hurt his feelings. Honestly, a sorrowful Lancelot looked too much like a kicked puppy, and none of them could have that weighing on their conscience.

Lancelot kissed them all on the cheek as soon as he reached them and Arthur smiled awkwardly, his face warming marginally, still unaccustomed to the tradition that Lancelot had brought with him from his homeland.

Other faces weren’t so familiar.

Arthur watched the area flood with people until he had to sidle closer to his best friend for comfort. The anxious tension building in his frame eased as Merlin glanced at him and smiled as he chatted with Lancelot enthusiastically; Arthur didn’t follow the conversation closely, though he hummed in agreement now and then as he watched people mount the platform that had been set up ahead of the parade. He rose on his toes to get a clearer view and ignored the amused chuckle from Merlin. A warm wave of affection flooded through his chest when he saw Balinor and Hunith mount the stage together.

Arthur knew he was in for a treat.  


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay, folks. For the month of July, I was working on a project for Camp NaNoWriMo. And then I spent some time recuperating. But the next chapter is now available!

Arthur watched as Hunith and her silent husband approached the microphone waiting for them at the centre of the stage with a familiar determination in their steps. Balinor settled beside his wife quietly, but proudly, a smile visible on his face even from a distance. He held a sign with one hand. It bore a large pink triangle and read: _Let Me Be Perfectly Queer_. Their fingers tangled together as Hunith pulled the microphone from its stand with one hand and said cheerfully, “Hey, Camelot Pride!”

A roar of enthusiasm rippled through Bi + Albion.

A few other groups carried the roar down through Prince Street.

His heart thumping wildly, Arthur found himself swept up in it for several moments as those around him raised and shook their signs as their roars took on a feverish pitch. It was almost deafening. He loved it with his entire being. The rampant enthusiasm that surged around him flooded through his chest and filled him with an almost desperate urge to bellow from the rooftops overhead. He wanted to roar incoherently, to purge all the pain and suffering he’d experienced since he was a boy, since he first learned that being different was a grave sin.

That wanting to love and be loved was a sin.

That wanting to touch and be touched was a sin.

Arthur wanted to purge the discomfort and nausea he’d suffered for so long, and the rage and anguish that burned through him whenever he thought about his father. He wanted to purge the grief he felt when he thought about the uncle he’d never had a chance to know because someone cruel and unforgiving had ripped him away, torn him from his friends and family, and cast him into the garbage. He wanted to shout at the top of his lungs that he was fucking queer and nothing could change that. No one could change that — no matter how hard people tried to change him or convince him otherwise.

Arthur belonged in that street with his friends and all the others.

Pride was a celebration — but it was also a call to battle. It was a call to gather close and prepare for the rise of an enemy, both seen and unseen. It was a call to band together and press onward. It was a demand for change and acceptance: their kind would stop at nothing less. Arthur looked askance at Gwen quickly, his heartbeat quickening at the sight of her fervour and fury, her righteousness. He loved her. He loved her so fucking much. Falling in love with her was the best decision he’d ever made. It brought him out of the closet and to a space where he could be his truest self for the first time in his life. He couldn’t wait to go home with her and sweep her off her feet — it was no less than she deserved for being the most loving, the most accepting, and the most patient woman he’d ever met.

His heart pounding, Arthur couldn’t stop himself from dropping his side of the banner and closing the distance between them. He couldn’t stop himself from gathering her close as the roar of enthusiasm faded around them and snaring her mouth in a fervent kiss. Merlin swooped in to rescue the banner as Gwen relinquished it and threw her arms around Arthur in return. She giggled against his mouth as Arthur stumbled beneath the added weight as her legs wound around his waist.

“Oi! At least wait until the speech is over!”

Arthur couldn’t help chuckling, breaking the kiss in the process. He continued to cradle Gwen in his arms. His wife glanced toward the stage and Balinor, however, and waved a vague hand in acknowledgement before kissing him all over again. She ran gentle hands through his hair and lowered her legs a few moments later. She cradled his face tenderly, gazing up at him with no small amount of affection.

“You’re such a dork.”

“Your dork.”

Brenda Chang squeaked somewhere in the background upon hearing their affectionate exchange and Arthur glanced at her in amusement. He couldn’t help wondering how their affection could entertain or please her so much. It was no different to the affection shown between other couples. Surely, it couldn’t be that cute or that new to her.

Nikita groaned with frustrated despair, however, and that was far easier to understand in comparison. The saccharine sweetness of other couples often threatened to give him a toothache. Arthur knew it was hypocrisy, but he couldn’t help it. He’d rather lock lips with his wife than witness other couples doing the same. He had a taste for a particular kind of sweetness and nothing else would do.

Brenda poked them with her sign.

Nikita waved her away, grumbling.

Arthur turned away, biting back a laugh as Gwen did the same. The pair of them reclaimed the banner from Merlin and their best friend brushed both of their shoulders warmly, lingering, a smile on his face. Gwen waved at Balinor, who shook his sign at them before giving his wife an encouraging nudge.

“Well. That was lovely,” Hunith said cheerfully, after reclaiming the microphone from her husband at last. Her fond chuckle carried across the crowd and found them with overwhelming ease. She’d known them both for so long: she’d known Arthur since he attended university, but she’d known Gwen for much longer. She’d known her since she was a girl. Hunith and Balinor had started the outreach program and that had been how Merlin and Gwen met. Gwen had been the first queer teenager she’d taken under her wing. That moment had forged a powerful bond between them. “You’re not the first to be swept up in the excitement and won’t be the last!”

A number of people from Bi + Albion cheered and wolf-whistled.

Hunith waited for them to calm down before continuing, adding seriously, “I’d like to thank the pride committee for allowing me to have the stage at last. Finally, after decades of requesting the opportunity, I’ve been granted the chance to promote the groups and programs that matter so much to me and others.”

Arthur tensed as those words sank in. He noticed several members of the pride committee straightening in their seats at the back of the stage and exchanging glances with each other. Whispers flittered through a few of the surrounding groups. Arthur glanced at Merlin and his stomach twisted with discomfort upon seeing his lack of surprise. Honestly, there was a glimmer of anger in his expression. He noticed Merlin and Gwen holding hands tightly, both of their knuckles paling with effort. He looked around him. None of those closest to him seemed surprised. If anything, a grim understanding had settled among them. Arthur was missing something important here. However, Hunith continued her speech before he could ask.

“Most people here won’t know who I am. Which is funny, since most of us see the pride booklets that come out in the weeks leading up to this event. Balinor and I are in it each summer. Yet I’ve never seen our names in print for some reason.” Two members of the pride committee rose from their seats and Hunith raised her hand quickly, casting a quelling glance over her shoulder. No one could resist such a look. Blushing, the committee members reclaimed their seats as the whispers around Bi + Albion increased. Hunith looked down at the first few rows in front of her and something sharp entered her voice for the first time since Arthur met her. Momentarily, she looked like a shark circling prey, her mouth curling around a smile that took on a dangerous edge. “I am not the straight bitch that some people think I am. Don’t act so surprised: I’m not deaf. I am Hunith Le Fay; I am bisexual and I’m not fucking confused.”

A dead silence settled on the crowd.

“Admittedly, some things do confuse me.” Hunith nodded almost to herself before exchanging a brief glance with her husband and looking out at the crowd again. There was now a strength in her frame that appeared so rarely, Arthur felt privileged to see it. But it unnerved him at the same time. Swallowing thickly, and doing his best to quell his anxiety, he reached out and captured the hand nearest him. Merlin looked askance at him in surprise as their fingers interlocked. He said nothing, but squeezed reassuringly, his thumb stroking the back of his hand. “I am confused that there are people standing in front of me that don’t think bisexuals exist. I don’t exist to these people. Balinor doesn’t exist. Several groups looking up at us now don’t exist. Brenda Howard — the Mother of Pride — organised the first pride march. She was a proud bisexual! Take the initiative and google her!”

Bi + Albion and several other groups cheered at the mention of Brenda Howard.

Hunith waited a moment or so for the cheering to die down before continuing, adding pointedly, “I am confused because bi people make up half of our beautiful community, and somehow…somehow most of us are afraid to come out. We’re afraid to come out to our straight friends and our straight families. Coming out to straight people can be awful. It can be one of the most stressful and frightening moments in our lives. No one here would ever question that. But there is more for bisexuals to consider when being open about who we are. Most importantly, we’re afraid to come out as bisexual in a room full of queers. In the queer community, being homosexual is viewed as the default. We’re assumed to be a lesbian or gay, and when we admit our bisexuality, we’re no longer welcome.”

Arthur blinked in surprise upon hearing that. He looked askance at Merlin and Gwen at once. Swallowing thickly, he noted the lack of surprise on their expressions. Something uncomfortable settled in his stomach as he remembered the man from earlier — the one who’d shouted insults at them for hugging, for being open about their affections. It dawned on him that such incidences weren’t isolated occurrences.  Arthur hadn’t thought about it. He hadn’t thought about what it might be like to come out as bisexual in a room full of members from the broader community, once the first step of admitting it to oneself and some close friends was done. He hadn’t thought it would be an issue that large. His friends were the most welcoming people he’d ever met. He supposed he’d assumed most queer communities would be like that. Obviously, Arthur knew there’d be a few bad eggs. There wasn’t a single group that didn’t have a bad egg or two. But the idea that people acted like the man from earlier on a frequent basis made him uncomfortable.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Hunith continued firmly, her voice reaching even the furthest sections of the gathered crowd. She seemed to grow taller as she spoke. Bi + Albion hung from each word that fell from her lips. “There are wonderful people in the broader community, and I’ve been privileged to meet a few of them. Tristan de Bois was one of them.”

Hunith bowed her head as a mark of respect as she mentioned Tristan de Bois. Arthur stared up at her, emotion surging in his chest. His grip tightened. Merlin winced uncomfortably, but didn’t protest the unrelenting pressure. He just squeezed his hand in return. Arthur dragged in a shaking breath and forced himself to relax. He forced himself to loosen his grip as another silence fell over the gathered crowd. Unlike the silence that fell previously, however, it wasn’t uncomfortable.

It wasn’t dead.

It wasn’t weighted with guilt or anticipation.

It was a silence filled with mourning.

Tristan de Bois was a known name in the broader queer community; Merlin had informed Arthur of that not long ago. His murder and the horrific disposal of his corpse was one that galvanised a new wave of activists and protestors to emerge.

“Tristan was one of the greatest men I’ve ever known. He was the one that told me that being bisexual was natural. That it was common. That it wasn’t something to be afraid or ashamed of. Tristan was the one that encouraged me to attend the first march held in Camelot. He helped me become the woman and mother I am now. He was wonderful and I miss him so much. I miss his support and encouragement. But an overwhelming amount of people aren’t like Tristan de Bois.”

Another dead silence fell upon the crowd.

Arthur tensed with rage as a few furious mutterings reached his ears from the group ahead of Bi + Albion. Comments about Hunith being a daft cow and a homophobe. About her taking oppression and turning it into some sort of competition. He’d never heard such outrageous bullshit in his fucking life. His knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip around the banner in his clutches. Arthur fought the urge to storm forward and belt the fucking wankers with his end of the banner.

How dare those fucking shitheads talk shit about Hunith!

Arthur looked askance at Merlin. He wasn’t surprised to see him glaring furiously, his taller frame trembling, his attention fastened upon the people muttering back and forth about his mother. His own rage was forgotten in the face of seeing Merlin so angry, so close to snapping and throwing himself at the people spewing such vitriol about his mother.

“Biphobia is a real issue!” Bi + Albion roared in encouragement as Hunith shouted the words. Her husband raised his protest sign and shook it aggressively, roaring along with the bisexuals in the crowd. Hunith waited for the roaring to ebb before continuing. Her voice gained strength as she spoke. “Biphobia is prevalent in queer communities and it doesn’t have to be obvious to be dangerous. No one has to call a bisexual a whore or accuse them of confusion to be biphobic. It doesn’t have to be as blatant as that. Biphobia can be the strained smile and mild note of condescension that appear when a woman comes out as bisexual and the nearest lesbian feels compelled to say, ‘I dated a man when I was young, but I was much happier once I accepted that I was a lesbian.’ Or when bisexuals claim to be living with a biphobe and someone feels compelled to say, ‘You mean a homophobe?’”

Hunith paused as if to strengthen herself. She drew a breath and went on to say, “I am confused…but not surprised that there was no organisation dedicated to serving our needs until Merlin — a man I raised and am so proud of — took the burden upon himself and founded Bi + Albion. I am confused…but not surprised that countless people come to his growing community, having never met or seen or even heard of another bi person. I am confused…but not surprised when bi people tell me about their fear that pride isn’t meant for them. To hear that is heart-breaking. Pride is for us. We belong here. No one can change that!”

Bi+ Albion and several other groups roared their enthusiasm and their challenge.

“I am so confused…but far from surprised when I hear someone that identifies as lesbian or gay,” Hunith announced a moment later, her voice choked and watery, “talking about their disappointment and anger when a bisexual person falls in love with someone of a different gender. And I am so fucking confused when people claim that our community, the bi community, lives with privilege when bisexual people suffer twice as much as our homosexual peers. But I’m not surprised. An overwhelming amount of people in the broader communities are biphobic and unwilling to admit it. Homosexuals accuse us of causing drama and picking fights when all we want is fair treatment from our brothers and sisters — when all we want is to be welcomed and embraced and loved for who we are. Homosexuals claim to want and have a diverse and welcoming community, but their actions speak louder than words. I’m sick of being told to shut up when I make complaints about how we’re treated. I’m sick of being invisible. I’m sick of having our needs shoved under a rug, as if LGBTQ communities are happy, welcoming, tolerant societies and homosexuals can do no wrong. I’m sick of being told that I’m imagining or exaggerating the things I and others have witnessed and experienced. I’m not. None of us are. Homosexual circles are no different to heteronormative circles and until we have true equality, there can be no peace and no justice in our communities. We must fight for what we believe! I will not stand aside. I will not be ignored and erased. I demand to be seen and heard and I won’t stop shouting until the world takes heed!”

A shocked silence rang for a moment as Hunith returned the microphone to its stand and stormed off the stage without another word. Bi + Albion erupted with raucous cheering a moment later. Several other groups took up the cheer with determined vigour and some shifted uncomfortably, even angrily, their frames tense after hearing the accusations shouted from the stage ahead of them.

Clearly, some people didn’t like the notion of being called out.

Arthur pursed his lips in displeasure at the knowledge. Such reactions weren’t a surprise. He’d seen it before on several occasions. Accusations of racism and sexism tended to generate the same response among white people and men respectively; there was a certain fragility, Arthur knew, in holding a dominant position within social circles and the slightest snap back could cause an uproar within that circle. Suggesting misbehaviour within certain circles was viewed the same as being prejudiced against them. The slightest demand for equal treatment was viewed as an attempt to take rights from those in the dominant position.

Such reactions were intolerable.

That it happened in queer circles as well infuriated him.

Arthur wanted to smack the lot of them with his end of the banner until people started owning up to their shitty, oppressive behaviour and worked toward a better environment for future generations.

People glared and muttered amongst each other as Hunith pushed through the crowd like a woman on a mission and reached Bi + Albion at last. Balinor wore an expression so besotted that Arthur felt as though he were intruding — something that both amused and confused him. Hunith threw her arms around Merlin and squeezed him tightly, an embrace that Merlin returned wholeheartedly, a warm smile on his face as he pressed it against her hair. Arthur, however, startled when Balinor stepped up to him and clapped him on the shoulder without warning, exclaiming, “Thanks for joining us! I wondered when we’d get the privilege!”

“You knew?!”

“Of course.” Balinor winked at him. He donned a smile reminiscent of Merlin and wrapped an arm around his shoulder conspiratorially, adding, “It takes one to know one. We knew almost as soon as Merlin introduced us. Bad puns and finger guns are kind of a theme among us bisexuals.”

Arthur almost choked on a burst of laughter as he remembered the first time he’d visited their house for dinner. How he’d been drawn into a battle of puns before he knew what was happening, a startled smile on his face. But he’d loved it. He’d loved the smiles flashing between the five of them as Gwen kept a warm and comforting hand on his thigh beneath the table. He’d loved hearing Hunith and Balinor exchange jokes with each other as the night wore on. He’d loved hearing Merlin and Gwen tease each other.

However, there had been a certain strangeness to watching them interact. Arthur hadn’t known how Merlin and Gwen met at the time. He hadn’t known that the pair of them had come to view each other as siblings. But he’d known the pair of them would go to the ends of the earth for each other. He’d recognised something about their close relationship on some level and it had brought his own sister to mind. He’d lost himself to thoughts of Morgana and the anger and grief that twisted her features after she’d stared at him expectantly, and hopefully, waiting for him to come to her defence when she’d come out as a lesbian and Uther had flown into a furious tirade at the merest suggestion.

How she’d slapped him when he’d come to her room to apologise.

To explain.

Morgana hadn’t given him a chance. She hadn’t given him a chance to reach out to her. She hadn’t given him a chance to struggle past the lump swelling in his throat and threatening to suffocate him. She hadn’t given him a chance to come out to her. She hadn’t given him a chance to help her understand why, why he hadn’t been able to speak up in front of their father.

Arthur could still feel the sting of her hand burning against his face even now. He’d been fifteen at the time and she’d been almost twenty, her lustrous hair shorn off on one side and her nose pierced — trivial things that Lord Uther Pendragon had cared less about than her sexuality, _their_ sexuality, and how it would reflect on him as a parent within the conservative circles he frequented. Arthur had stared at her in shock and agony, his fingers trembling as he’d touched his cheek in an attempt to tell himself that it wasn’t real. That he’d imagined the impact of her hand and the vibrant pain that flared across his face.

But he hadn’t imagined it.

Arthur could still see the tears spilling down her face as she’d seized her backpack and shouldered past him without a word. Without a single backward glance. As though she’d rather forget what he looked like than take even the briefest glimpse of him with her. He could still feel his heart tearing down the middle as he’d called after his sister and she’d ignored him. He could still hear the door slamming, the force so hard that it knocked a framed photograph of him and Morgana from the wall. He could still feel the wave of grief that washed through him as the glass shattered on the floor. He’d scrambled to rescue the photograph within and cradle it in his hands as the manor echoed with shouting, with the violent crash of priceless vases as their father tried to stop Morgana from leaving, threatening her with disinheritance and worse as she flung vase after vase at him in her attempt to reach the main doors.

Arthur had knelt in a circle of broken glass and splintered wood. He’d stared down at the laughing face of his sister as she’d chased him across the beach with a handful of seaweed in her grasp. He’d stared at his own squeamish expression as he kicked up sand in his need to escape the seaweed following him.

Tears had spilled down his face against his will.

Then he’d raised his head and looked at the other photographs still hanging on the walls of her bedroom — one of Morgana smirking and shoving his face into a cake and one of her hugging him tightly, smiling warmly, the pair of them dressed for winter and surrounded with glowing snow. There’d even been one of her sitting on the sofa in the parlour and holding him in her arms when he was a baby, her expression slack as she’d gazed down at him in wonder.

His own small fingers had curled around hers.

Arthur had choked on his anguish as he’d hid in her room and tried not to listen to the sound of her fury, to her claims of hating them both. To her hopes that their father would choke on his next meal and free the earth of his existence before it rotted at his touch. He’d shuffled across the floor until he’d reached the nearest wall and pressed his back against it as he’d drawn his knees close to his chest. He’d set the photograph aside and gripped his hair until a searing pain flashed across his scalp. He hadn’t been able to stomach the fury, the violence between the people he’d cared about most. He’d remained in his hiding place until the manor fell silent around him and then he’d crept away, his heart in his throat and his stomach in the ground as he tried to reach his own room without reigniting the rage that burned through their father and drawing it towards himself. Fortunately, he’d reached his room without reminding his father of his own existence.

He’d almost knocked a pot of tea when Merlin nudged him sharply, bringing him back to the dining table with a suddenness that jarred him. His knee had thumped against the leg of the table. He’d flushed with embarrassment as four faces soft with concern had turned towards him immediately, but he hadn’t explained. He hadn’t explained about the volatile relationship that exploded as soon as Morgana came out of the closet and drove her out of his life forevermore. He hadn’t explained that he was queer. That he was more scared of coming out as a bisexual than he’d been of the enormous spiders that plagued his nightmares when he was a boy, of dreams filled with darkness and suffering, of fields stained with corpses and blades soaked with liquid rubies.

Arthur thought about Morgana now as Balinor moved on and greeted Merlin. He wondered whether her anger and anguish had waned in the decade and a half that had passed since then. He wondered whether she thought about him at all. He wondered whether she even cared. He’d hurt her terribly, but he hadn’t wanted to. Hurting was the last thing on his mind when he’d frozen on that day, pinned like a deer in headlights when both of them had looked to him for support.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair that Morgana had placed the onus on him.

Arthur gripped his side of the banner tightly, his knuckles whitening. Waves of grief washed through him as his stomach knotted. But a small glimmer of hope swelled in his chest as he realised that Morgana might be at the parade. That he might see her again. Arthur dragged in a shaking breath at the thought. There was so much he’d wanted to say, so much that he’d rehearsed in the past while clutching that same photograph he’d rescued on that fateful day, hoping that he might have a chance to explain in the future.

Perhaps this was his chance.

Arthur tucked that swelling hope into his heart as one of the stewards announced that the parade would begin shortly, but tried not to think about it. It wouldn’t do to let his hopes surge too much. He wasn’t certain he could handle the agony, if he failed to see his sister at some point during the parade. He looked askance at his wife and took strength from her beaming smile instead.

Music began pumping out into the street from somewhere behind them as engines rumbled to life around them. A new wave of excitement washed over the crowd as people put the speech out of their minds and various groups moved into formation.

Prince Street came to life as the parade started moving, policemen directing the groups at the front past the stage ahead. People clogging the footpaths began cheering, their cameras and phones flashing, waving at friends in greeting and encouragement. Babies and small children bounced and giggled with obvious excitement. People standing atop open buses started dancing; people dressed in bright colours and wielding signs on the street started skating, their muscles flexing. People dressed as sparkling rainbow fairies tossed packets of sweets at excited children and condoms at grateful adults.

Streamers flew through the air.

Glitter sparkled through hair and across skin.

The shrill notes of countless whistles echoed through the crowd.

A multitude of flags of various colours twisted in the wind and whirled prettily, a beacon and a comfort to those still trapped in the closet. Even for Arthur, seeing bisexual pride flags dotted throughout the groups ahead of theirs was emboldening; it sent a burst of warmth through his chest as he cheered.

Still…there weren’t enough bisexual pride flags for his liking; a group that made up such a large percentage of the broader LGBTQ communities should have more representation at the parade. The overwhelming lack of bisexual pride flags served to prove Hunith correct: people like him were afraid to come out even among their fellow queer peers. That thought saddened him. But it also made him more determined to be as loud and proud as possible. It made him shout and cheer louder as he and the others were directed past the stage at last and joined the marching crowds ahead of them.

“ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR,” Gwen bellowed clearly, her voice reaching others in the group with ease as she and Arthur raised their banner higher. A frisson of excitement and anticipation rippled through Bi+ Albion less than a moment before Gwen continued chanting at the top of her lungs. “OPEN UP THE CLOSET DOOR!!!”

A cheer swept through the group.

Brenda Chang and countless others waved their signs with vigour.

“FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! YOU DON’T KNOW YOUR KIDS ARE STRAIGHT!!!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The speech made in this chapter was (somewhat) based on a speech made at Dublin Pride in 2017.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I had a lot of fun working on this chapter.
> 
> I hope y'all have as much fun reading it!
> 
> Feel free to let me know what you think!

A growing frisson of anticipation rippled through Arthur as he and Gwen arrived at the house sometime after the parade. He tried to hide the tremble in his hand as he unlocked the door and crossed the threshold ahead of his wife. His stomach squirmed with nervous excitement at the thought of fingering himself open in secret and sliding one of his plugs inside — to keep him open for when Gwen took him home and shoved him down on their bed. His heart fluttered at the thought of her delighted surprise when he’d present the strap-on to her and spread his thighs to let her see that he was ready, that he’d prepared himself for her.

That he wanted her to take him.

Arthur moistened his lips at the thought of that warm gaze trailing over his inner thighs and the base of the plug tantalising his wife. His cheeks warmed as he said quickly, “I’ll take the first shower!”

Gwen didn’t have a chance to respond.

Arthur disappeared from view within a few moments as he darted up the stairs and locked himself into the bathroom. He chewed his lip as he stripped and left his clothes on the tiled floor. He glanced at his reflection briefly, goose bumps blossoming across his flesh. His cock was hardening already, eager for his plan to unfold.

Ever since he’d visited Get Stuffed a few weeks previously, Arthur had discovered that opening himself up and fucking himself on one of the dildos he’d purchased was one of the most pleasurable things he’d ever experienced — once he made it past the initial burn and discomfort. He hadn’t expected to love it so much. He hadn’t expected to have to muffle his strangled cries of pleasure whenever he trained himself while Gwen prepared dinner downstairs. He hadn’t expected to ache with longing during the period between one training session and the next. He hadn’t expected to burn with desperation for the moment he’d present the strap-on to his wife. Nor had he expected to wake from feverish dreams about being tied to the bed and fucked until he cried.

Just remembering such dreams stiffened his cock so fast that Arthur grew somewhat dizzy, having to brace himself against the sink for a moment. He took a moment to catch his breath and smiled at his own reflection sheepishly, feeling grateful that Gwen couldn’t see the desperation pumping through his veins in that moment. He reached down and ran a shaking hand over his straining erection for a moment. His touch was light and feathery, just enough to tease himself. His lashes fluttered at the touch. Arthur gasped in pleasure as his fingers grazed the head of his cock.

A shiver rippled through him.

A moment passed before Arthur managed to pull his hand away, to straighten himself and climb into the shower. He lost himself in the cascade of liquid heat that pummelled his head and shoulders when he turned the water on. A low groan of relief escaped him as the powerful torrent drove the knots of tension out of his back with ease. Arthur luxuriated for a few moments before preparing himself for the night ahead. Despite the eagerness and anticipation burning through his body, he fingered himself open carefully, ensuring that nothing tore during his feverish exploration. He braced one arm against the wall as his own fingers threatened to reduce him to a shivering, writhing, desperate mess.

Arthur breezed through the rest of his shower once he’d grown loose and relaxed enough to ease a dildo inside him when he reached their bedroom. He ran a towel over his hair before wrapping it around his waist. Steam billowed out of the bathroom when he stepped into the hallway, droplets of water clinging to his skin in numerous places. He hastened to their bedroom as Gwen pottered around downstairs. His heart thumped in his chest as he dried himself quickly, anticipation writhing in his stomach.

He wouldn’t have long.

Arthur retrieved his favourite dildo from the collection he’d amassed and hidden around their bedroom. Not to mention the plug he intended to use that night. It was the biggest one he’d used so far and still wasn’t quite as big as the dildo waiting in the strap-on under the vanity; that particular dildo was an inch thicker than the plug and dildo he planned to use to open himself up. Arthur gripped them in his hands for a moment and drew in a tremulous breath before setting them down and fetching the bottle of lubricant he’d stashed in the beside-locker. His hands shaking, he settled down on the bed carefully, drawing his knees up and pressing the soles of his feet against the edge of the bed. His blood thundered in his ears as he squeezed a dollop of lubricant on his fingers and warmed it carefully, reaching between his thighs.

His breath hitched as he touched himself.

Arthur drew his bottom lip between his teeth and sighed as he sank slick fingers inside himself. He fingered himself slowly, carefully, at first before quickening his pace as familiar footsteps pounded up the stairs. The bathroom door snapped shut. His thighs trembled as his fingers brushed that spot inside him. His back arched. His lashes fluttered. Arthur wanted to luxuriate in his ecstasy, but he knew he couldn’t. Not if he wanted to keep his actions a surprise. Arthur slipped his fingers free once he’d slicked himself enough and then reached for his dildo with an eager hand. He stroked it carefully, slicking its length. He pressed the head against his taint a moment later and released a trembling breath before pushing, his hips flexing; his lashes fluttered once more and a soft moan escaped him as the familiar girth filled him one inch at a time.

Arthur couldn’t help imagining Gwen walking in on him. He couldn’t help imagining her tightening her grip upon her towel and gasping, her amber gaze locked on him and trailing over his bare skin. He couldn’t help imagining the quickening of her breath. His own breath quickened as he imagined Gwen climbing on to the bed and settling between his spread thighs. His teeth clamped down on his lip as he imagined Gwen kissing him roughly, claiming him as she’d claimed him each night since she’d first brought him back to her flat. Arthur imagined Gwen batting his hands away, imagined her gripping the base of the dildo with one confident hand. Arthur shivered and withdrew the dildo several inches as he imagined Gwen doing so. He shoved it back in as the sound of a cascading jet of water reached his ears a moment later.

His cock twitched against his belly, hard and aching, eager.

Arthur fucked himself steadily, his head turning, inhaling the soft scent of their laundered bedclothes as a familiar heat blossomed inside him. He muffled whimpers of pleasure against the blankets. His toes curled around the edge of the mattress. His hips flexed automatically, rocking up into each slick slide. His lips parted. His jaw slackened. Heat radiated through him and beads of sweat began building, glistening across his flushing skin.

Each slick slide and graze against that sweet spot inside him felt so good that Arthur almost forgot what he was doing, what he’d started fucking himself for. It took a monumental effort to stop the eager push of his hand and ignore the demanding pulse of his cock. He choked on a moan as he slipped the dildo free and dropped it on the bed beside him. Arthur spent several moments concentrating on his breathing, his frame trembling, needing to a readjust to the sudden drop in delicious sensation. He reached for the plug when his breath grew steadier and couldn’t help smiling as the faint sound of singing carried through the door.

Gwen often sang in the shower.

Arthur focused on that sound of singing, using it to anchor himself as he pressed the plug inside. He could still remember the first time he’d heard Gwen sing, how the soft notes had sounded so familiar and still so foreign as he stopped beneath the open window at university; the tinkling notes of a warm piano had accompanied her as she’d sang a familiar song with a golden tongue. It had sounded so beautiful and entrancing that he couldn’t prevent himself from using the nearest windowsill to boost himself up. He’d almost broken a few nails as he’d heaved himself up a few feet and used a few ridges as footholds. He’d climbed high enough to fold his arms across the windowsill and hear Gwen sing sweetly, “ _He’s a fool and don’t I know it. But a fool can have his charms. I’m in love and don’t I show it._ ”

Arthur had stared at his girlfriend in amazement and delighted surprise. He’d been so awed that he’d almost missed Leon smiling faintly, plucking the strings of his double bass as he shared a glance with the pianist nearby; she was a beautiful woman with tumbling chestnut brown waves framing her face. Her pale skin made her russet irises stand out — not unlike autumn leaves against a background of soft clouds. Absently, Arthur had looked at the pianist nearby, knowing he’d seen her somewhere before and unable to place her. She’d smiled at him before focusing on Gwen as she continued to sing, a softness in her gaze that Arthur recognised all too well.

Something akin to dread had settled in his stomach for an instant.

Arthur had shaken that dread free less than a moment later. He’d known he had nothing to be concerned about even at the beginning of their relationship: Gwen was a frequent advocate for trust and honesty, and open communication. If she’d developed an attraction for the pianist nearby, Gwen would have told him. She’d have discussed the various possibilities with him and whether she’d have pursued a relationship with the pianist would have been a decision made between them.

That knowledge lodged firmly, Arthur had heaved himself higher with the intention of easing himself through the window and surprising the woman he loved with a warm embrace from behind. Unfortunately, he’d accomplished the surprise when he’d toppled through the window accidentally, cursing and grunting in pain when he’d hit the floor and toppled three chairs in the process. Gwen had almost died from shock upon hearing the violent clatter behind her. She’d almost given herself whiplash when she’d whirled around to see him sprawling painfully, and she’d dropped to her knees beside him a moment later.

“You’re such a reckless idiot.” Gwen had muttered the words to herself as she’d checked him over carefully, earning a dazed smile. She’d smiled down at him in return — in spite of her obvious frustration. Her hand had carded through his hair tenderly, her fingertips grazing his scalp with familiar tenderness. “You could’ve used the stairs.”

“You’d have stopped before I got here.”

An incomprehensible noise had escaped Gwen upon hearing that remark and she’d ducked down to press a kiss against his forehead. Arthur had sighed in contentment. Feeling her soft lips against his skin had often earned such a sigh. He’d almost melted when Gwen had nuzzled his face for a moment before withdrawing, shaking her head in amusement. She’d climbed to her feet and helped him to his own a moment later. Arthur had grimaced at the new stiffness in his frame and had welcomed the gentle hands that came to help ease out the kinks.

“Sorry,” Arthur had murmured quietly, aware of the amusement passing between Leon and the pianist. He’d offered an awkward smile when Gwen glanced up at him in surprise as she’d soothed the ache in his side with a gentle hand. “I know I can be embarrassing at times. When I do something stupid.”

“It was endearing,” Gwen had answered easily, an affectionate smile dancing across her mouth. Her gaze had twinkled up at him. She’d seemed to have tuned out the other people in the room. Arthur had wished he could do the same. Unfortunately, he often became more aware of others after doing something tactless or humiliating. Something that wasn’t dignified. Something that would have earned the displeasure of his father. “But I’d still recommend taking the stairs in future.”

“Lesson learned.” Arthur had ducked down to press a kiss against her forehead. He’d wrapped one arm around her without thinking, needing to feel her warmth. It hadn’t mattered that Leon and the pianist were watching them. Arthur had smiled down at Gwen as he’d curled his fingers around her chin and said softly, “I also learned that I’m dating an amazingly, and incredibly, talented woman.”

“You knew that before.”

“Not about the singing,” Arthur had answered pointedly, his mouth easing into a smirk as the tables turned and a modicum of embarrassment blossomed across the soft apples in front of him. “If I’d known about the singing, I’d have requested serenades a long time ago.”

Leon had snorted in the background.

Arthur had flushed immediately, glowering at his friend and grousing, “Shut up, Leon!”

Leon had raised a hand in acknowledgement and surrender. Laughing, he’d turned to put his double bass away, beckoning for the pianist to follow him. The pair of them had gathered their things within moments and had disappeared through the doorway, though not before the pianist threw a glance over her shoulder and winked at Arthur and Gwen.

Gwen had laughed in embarrassment and pressed her forehead against his chest. Her hands had climbed his back to rest against his shoulder blades. She’d welcomed his warm embrace easily, smiling, chuckling as Arthur had gone on to say, “You never told me about the singing. I’m offended.”

“It never came up.” Gwen had shrugged before tipping her head back and smiling at him openly, her gaze twinkling in a familiar manner. “Besides…I think I’m allowed to have a few secrets.”

“No. Never” Arthur had shaken his head faintly, his own mouth curling around an amused smile. He’d tipped his head down to press his brow against hers. He’d slipped his second arm around her and drawn her closer. “I want to know about all of the wonderful things the woman I love can do. How else am I supposed to brag about dating the most incredible woman in Albion?”

“You know about the important ones.”

“Do I?” Arthur had withdrawn a fraction as he asked the question aloud. He’d scrunched his nose in thoughtful confusion as he’d looked down at the woman in his arms. He’d shaken his head in disbelief. “I’m not sure I do.”

“You do.” A smile had eased into a teasing smirk as Gwen raised her brows suggestively, her gaze twinkling. Arthur had drawn his lip between his teeth at once as realisation bloomed within him. Gwen had nipped the tip of his nose with her teeth as a warm blush blossomed across his face. “Most definitely, Arthur.”

“But I can’t brag about those.” Arthur had tightened his arms around her as his cock had twitched between them. He’d often been a victim to the tempting nips of her teeth and that moment had been no different. Part of him had wanted to sweep her off her feet and set her down on the nearest table — the urge to take her in the music room had been almost overwhelming. Arthur wasn’t sure how he’d resisted the temptation even now. “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“He can when he has permission.”

“Keep talking like that and I won’t be accountable for what happens next.” He’d pressed himself closer and Gwen had giggled in his arms as he’d ground his erection against her belly, making unspoken promises to be carried out later. He’d nuzzled her face and inhaled the scent of her soft skin. He’d longed to be flush against her body, no barriers between them but for the condom he’d carried in his wallet. Just in case. It had been impossible to know when he’d have a chance to fuck Gwen against the nearest surface: the slightest thing could ignite their hormones and send them crashing into each other. “You know how much I like being told what to do.”

“Well. You’re now being told not to interrupt rehearsals in future.” Gwen had poked him in the chest. “Mithian needed the practice. Her exams are coming up soon.”

Arthur hadn’t interrupted a single rehearsal after that. But he’d often curled up in her arms at the end of a long and stressful day, requesting a serenade. Gwen had often smiled wryly, but she’d never denied him. His favourite serenades occurred whenever he came down with something; Gwen would settle down on the couch and he’d rest his head on her lap as she wound her fingers around locks of his hair. She’d sing softly, her voice enveloping him like a warm blanket and he’d fall straight to sleep.

But sleep wasn’t on his mind now.

Arthur grunted as the plug slid into place at last and let his head fall back against the bed. He swallowed thickly, clenching around its girth automatically, squirming a fraction to make sure it felt comfortable. Slowly, he eased himself up and gasped at the increased pressure against his prostate. Arthur allowed himself to luxuriate in the sensation for a moment before rising from the bed and hiding the lubricant in the bedside locker. He hid the dildo next and made a mental note to clean it in the morning — once he recovered from being fucked into the mattress at least.

His toes curled at the thought.

Arthur couldn’t help clenching around the plug again. He gripped the door of the wardrobe as he imagined Gwen finding him like this. But he didn’t let himself luxuriate in that thought for long — he didn’t have much time left. He started dressing less than a moment later and was in the process of zipping up his leather trousers when his wife slipped into the room.

“Good choice!” Gwen ran an appreciate gaze over him as she paused on her way, one hand curling above her breasts and helping to keep the white towel wrapped around her frame secure against her chest. Her braids were hidden beneath another white towel. Several droplets of water followed the dips and curves of her neck and shoulders before soaking into the towel wrapped around her. Her gaze twinkled as Gwen gave his backside an appreciative swat and pressed a brief kiss against the back of his neck. Her hand lingered and squeezed a fraction before rubbing, her palm warm and possessive through the leather keeping their flesh separate. “I love this pair. Your arse looks so grabbable in it.”

Arthur jolted as the swat jostled the plug inside him. He almost gasped in startled pleasure. Fortunately, he managed to stop himself from reacting in such a manner, but that didn’t prevent his face from warming with a fusion of pleasure and embarrassment. His chest flooded with gratitude and affection even so. Arthur turned slightly, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth as Gwen rose on her toes. He accepted the soft kiss that came an instant later and sighed into her mouth briefly, humming in appreciation as she squeezed his backside again.

“I wanted to look good.” Arthur murmured the words as he withdrew. He touched her cheek with trembling fingers and tucked the knowledge of his surprise deep into his chest. He let the thought of her delighted surprise give him strength. He added quietly, “For you.”

“Mission accomplished.” Gentle fingers grazed the small of his back. Arthur shivered minutely, imagining those fingers slipping lower. Slowly, her fingers climbed and teased the space between his shoulder blades. Her touch threatened to bring the heat of his fever rushing back to the surface. “You look good enough to eat.”

“I’m not even finished.”

“What a pity,” Gwen replied as a teasing smile curled around her mouth. Her fingertips continued to graze his skin and soon settled at the base of his ribcage. His chest pushed against her hand with each breath. Arthur gripped the door of the wardrobe and braced himself against the urge to turn around — to rip the towel away, to drive her back against the bed and pin her beneath him. He couldn’t afford to distract himself with her luscious curves now. He knew that if he avoided going to the Inferno for too long, he’d never set foot in the club. He’d never have the courage to be as brave as he’d been again. But that knowledge didn’t prevent him from dissolving into a boneless puddle as Gwen continued to rest her hand against his chest. Her lips found his shoulder and grazed against his skin softly, warmly, an unspoken promise. “It seems a shame to cover this up.”

“Going to the club like this wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Gwen sighed dramatically, pressing another kiss against his bare shoulder and letting her hand slid upwards to graze one of his nipples before cradling the base of his neck. His apple bobbed as he swallowed and brushed her fingers. His grip on the wardrobe door tightened a fraction. “Might be because I’d have to beat them off with a stick.”

Arthur choked on a startled laugh and looked away, another wave of warmth flooding his chest as something akin to a grin stole across his features. He turned abruptly, catching her mouth in another kiss. Just because he could. He slipped out of reach a moment later and reached for the shirt Gwen favoured — the fabric was soft and shimmery, and a red so deep and lustrous one might have mistaken it for a pool of blood at first glance. He swirled it around his shoulders and slipped his arms through the sleeves within moments.

Gwen pouted almost audibly, but sighed and moved on less than a moment later. Arthur couldn’t help glancing over his shoulder and watching as she dropped her towel not too far away, her hands reaching up to seize the towel still wrapped around her hair. His breath hitched as a few droplets ran down the length of her tattoo and kissed the swell of her backside. His fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt as Gwen unwound the towel and patted her hair dry, removing the excess water from her cascade of familiar braids. Unlike Arthur, Gwen couldn’t give her locks a vigorous rub without ruining her hair and forcing her to redo the braids woven with so much effort.

Arthur managed to regain the use of his fingers after a moment or so. Her naked frame wasn’t something he hadn’t seen before. He’d witnessed Gwen attending herself after a shower on countless occasions. He supposed the fever still running through his veins made even the smallest things seem like the most sensual teases. Shaking his head slightly, Arthur focused on buttoning his shirt until a faint glimpse of his chest remained on display; it was just enough to tantalise whoever looked in his direction. He ran idle fingertips over his sternum for a moment and couldn’t help smirking, knowing he’d have the attention of his wife for the entire night.

Arthur glanced over his shoulder once more.

Gwen tackled her hair expertly, tending to her braids with great care. Several drops of water dripped onto her shoulders and slid down the curve of her back. Her toes curled around the white towel beneath her feet. Her flushed skin shimmered as she danced slightly, a pleased hum radiating from deep within her chest. Still watching, Arthur felt his smirk morph into a fond smile and he closed the distance between them in moments.

It was his turn to tease kisses against bare skin.

Gwen hummed in encouragement and tilted her head fractionally, allowing him greater access to the delicate curve of her neck. Her damp hair brushed against his cheek and sent a shiver through him.

“Wear the red dress tonight.” Arthur smirked as Gwen shivered against him. He let his lips graze beneath her jaw again as he added quietly, “You know the one I mean.”

“I’m the one that gives the orders around here.” His wife tried to muster that authoritative voice she loved to use on him — the one she used whenever he was tied to the bed and vulnerable beneath her captivating gaze. Ripe for her gentle tortures and her merciless adoration. His smirk deepened when she didn’t quite succeed in mustering that tone. Instinctively, Gwen turned her head a fraction and tried to add to the effect with a firm expression. “Remember?”

“Indulge me.” His voice grew silken as he let his fingertips tease the curve of her hip gently, relishing the goose bumps that bloomed across her skin. He trailed his affection upwards slowly, his hand soon cupping the swell of her breast. He squeezed a fraction and then caressed her tenderly, pressing against her back as he did so. Gwen moaned and shivered all over again. Her nipple hardened against his palm and pushed against his skin with each rapid breath that escaped Gwen. Arthur captured the lobe of her vulnerable ear and suckled with tender care before letting his teeth seize soft flesh gently, sweetly; he almost melted into a puddle when he tasted her warm skin upon his tongue. He teased both of them for a brief moment and then murmured softly, “You won’t regret it.”

“You’ve become such a manipulative tease.” Gwen huffed in irritation. Arthur chuckled when she pushed back against his hips in retaliation and sent sparks of pleasure through him. He slipped his arms around her. “When the fuck did that happen?”

“Right around the time I bought those handcuffs.”

“Ahh. Of course. I remember now.” Gwen giggled as she rested her head back against his sternum and tilted her face up. She granted him an upside-down smile. Her irritation was forgotten in favour of recalling that evening, not long after the pair of them had graduated from uni. “Coming home to find a naked man handcuffed to the bed and wearing a red ribbon on his cock was the perfect end to a fabulous birthday; I couldn’t imagine a better gift.”

Arthur swallowed the elated burst of laughter that threatened to escape him. It was clear that Gwen couldn’t imagine him offering his arse to her. Not when it came to letting her peg him. Obviously, the pair of them planned to explore spanking in the near future. But that was much different to what he had in store for Gwen now. His arms tightened around his wife.

Gwen was in for the biggest surprise of her life to date.

Arthur pressed himself against her bare backside as heat flared through him at the thought of her enthusiasm. At the thought of her hips pressing flush against his backside. He let her feel what thinking of her did to him. He pressed a kiss against her upturned forehead and inhaled the scent of her skin. He shivered minutely, knowing he was going to collapse from pleasure later. He wondered whether she’d inflict a sweet punishment on him for daring to keep his plans a secret from her.

Part of him hoped she would.

Orgasm denial was one of the various torments Gwen loved to inflict upon him.

Honestly, Arthur loved being the victim. He loved being at her mercy, knowing she was the one in control and trusting that she’d never take him further than he could handle. He could still remember the first time she’d denied his orgasm — how he’d writhed in the kitchen chair and struggled against the cushioned leather straps pinning him in place. How the wood creaked beneath him with each desperate squirm of his hips and each arch of his back as his arms strained against their bindings. He’d suffered the silken heat of her mouth for so long that he’d started sobbing, his frame flushed and sweaty, and trembling hard. His cock had strained against the silver ring Gwen had inflicted upon him. His balls had started throbbing with desperate need between thighs forced wide apart. He’d sobbed beneath his red blindfold and begged until he’d grown hoarse…but Gwen hadn’t relented until he’d slumped weakly, his mind floating with something so much more intense than an orgasm.

Gwen had let him drift for what felt like an eternity, but could have been mere moments. He’d been certain of nothing but the sudden absence of pressure around the base of his cock and then the soft hands gentling him as pleasure pulsed through him in almost violent waves. Gentle lips had feathered kisses across his face as he’d choked on a moan.

Eventually, soft words had guided him back to Gwen.

She’d shattered him into a million fragile pieces and had then put him back together with so much tender care that he couldn’t help whispering that he was hers. Forever. That he never wanted to be without her. Her hands had trembled as she’d released Arthur from the blindfold as the words tumbled out of him without his consent. He’d gazed up at her blearily, his vision distorted with tears and his cheeks swollen from sobbing, and he’d croaked weakly, “Let’s get married.”

Arthur pressed another soft kiss against her upturned forehead and couldn’t help smiling fondly, remembering how she’d squeaked in surprise upon hearing the unexpected proposal before throwing herself upon him in sheer delight. She’d almost toppled his chair with her enthusiasm. Her quick reflexes and muscles strengthened from dealing with her motorbike were the sole reason he hadn’t ended up in the A&E with a snapped wrist and a bad concussion that night. Gwen had continued to cling to him after the brief fright and he’d trembled in her grasp as the sudden spike of adrenaline ebbed. He’d welcomed the frantic kisses that rained down over his face and the pounding heartbeat that had pressed against his bare chest.

“I’m sorry,” Gwen had gasped against his mouth as her shaking hands had framed his face for an intense moment. Then her hands had started roaming, as though ensuring he was still in one piece. Usually, she’d been so composed compared to him whenever the pair of them explored the kinkier side of their relationship. That desperation…that nervous edge…had almost unnerved him. “I’m so sorry, Arthur. I didn’t mean to knock the chair!”

“I’m okay,” Arthur had murmured in return. “No harm done.”

“But there could have been!”

“But there wasn’t.” He’d pressed his forehead against hers. He’d smiled tenderly, their breaths mingling for several long moments. “And even if I’d been hurt…it was an accident. It wouldn’t have dented the trust we’ve built together. It would take a lot more than a small fright to damage what we have. Trust me.”

“Okay,” Gwen had replied shakily, nodding, her hands tensing against his bare shoulders for the briefest moment. Then she’d risen from his lap with care and Arthur had grunted softly, squirming, relieved as sensation started coming back to his thighs. She’d kissed him one last time before freeing him from his bindings one limb at a time. She’d glanced up at him while freeing his left ankle and an amused smile had danced across her mouth. “I was wondering who’d ask first.”

Arthur had blinked down at her with incomprehension.

“I have a ring upstairs.”

“Me too.” Arthur had flushed in embarrassment. But he hadn’t been able to look away, not when she drew his foot into her lap and began soothing the aching tendons in his ankle. Unfortunately, his captivation hadn’t lasted long: Gwen had soon soothed one of the tighter spots and Arthur had melted in his chair. He’d groaned in relief before gripping the edge of his seat. He’d tipped his head back and added tiredly, “I didn’t mean to ask earlier. I had _plans_.”

Gwen had chuckled softly, leaning forward to press a kiss against his knee.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Gwen had answered easily, smiling when his head rose and he’d focused his attention upon her fully, completely; something he’d often done whenever she spoke. Her gaze had twinkled with no small amount of warm affection. “Honestly, I like how it happened in the end. It makes it more memorable. Not to mention unique. Plans and romantic gestures are good. But there is something about a spontaneous proposal that speaks to me.”

“You just like trapping me in awkward situations!”

“There is that.” Her smile had deepened. “But I meant what I said.”

“I meant what I said as well.” Arthur had flushed as a wave of unexpected embarrassment washed through him. He’d spent several moments looking down at his hands before looking at Gwen. He’d felt so vulnerable. So exposed. And being naked in their own kitchenette had nothing to do with it. His hands had tightened around the edge of his seat until sparks of pain shot through his wrists and he’d gazed down at Gwen as his nerves got the better of him. “You…never answered.”

“You know the answer.” Gwen had frowned up at him. He’d recognised that look in an instant: it was the same expression she’d worn whenever he’d mentioned his uncle or his father in passing. Whenever he’d mentioned something he’d been told when he was growing up. A determined expression had washed over her features a moment later. She’d set down his foot and then she’d shuffled closer until she could wrap her arms around his middle. Just receiving such an embrace had sent a warm wave of gratitude through him. “We’re getting married! I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“You have?”

“You chose me.” Gwen had gazed up at him fiercely, her inner strength rising to the surface and reminding him of the actions he’d taken because he’d loved her. Because he couldn’t imagine living a life without her now that he’d found her. Arthur had swallowed thickly, emotional. Her arms had tightened around him in support as she’d continued to voice her inner thoughts. “You could have done what Uther said. You could have taken the simple path and ended what we had. But that didn’t happen. I knew then that I’d found the right man. Besides…Mrs Gwen Pendragon has a nice ring to it.”

Gwen had winked up at him.

She wasn’t wrong.

But then…she almost never was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to visit me at http://rachaelkelleher.tumblr.com/ or https://www.pillowfort.io/WoodlandGoddess1

**Author's Note:**

> Bi + Albion was inspired a by a real organisation, of which I am a member.


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